


The Tower

by phoenixwaller



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Dystopian Fiction, Game Shows, Gen, LGBTQ Character, Medical Conditions, Mentions of Suicide, Minor Character Death, Obstacle course, Original Character Death(s), Original Fiction, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reality TV, Science Fiction, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, Training, Trans Character, death maze
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2018-11-22 03:20:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 38,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11371512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixwaller/pseuds/phoenixwaller
Summary: The Tower is the most popular game show of all time. It has its own dedicated channel, and its own private island on which competitors train, make their runs, and ultimately live or die. Survivors are assured fame and fortune, however, those who fail to escape before the timer counts down perish in the collapse of the building.Sheryl Callaghan is the newest contestant, willing to risk her life after having lost everything in a tragic accident. She's trained, and she's ready to face both the physical and psychological demands of her individualized tower.However, she soon learns that there is a shadow greater than death looming over the show. If she escapes will she be able to face the truth?Updates Thursday evenings Mountain Time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my little game show!
> 
> For those of you who have been reading my Yuri on Ice fanfic, this may seem a drastic departure, but this is actually more what I normally write. I love playing around in future worlds, and especially with kickass female protagonists. 
> 
> _The Tower_ started way back in 2008ish as a "blog novel" which I posted to regularly. It thrived with regular interaction, but then life happened and I had to set it aside for a month or so. When I came back the readers were gone, and without the feedback loop it fell into my WIP pile. 
> 
> I love this story though, and I wanted to bring it back. I know that part of the problem was that it was hard to track before, but this platform is perfect for regular reading of a work in progress. Readers don't have to filter around other blog posts and can start from the beginning easily without fumbling through archives. 
> 
> Despite already having nearly 30,000 words written from when I originally posted it, I'm starting over. My writing has improved dramatically, and I want this new version to reflect that. I'm also adding a large chunk toward the beginning. 
> 
> Anyway, here it is. Enjoy!

Sheryl Callaghan ran her thumbs over the rough edge of the box perched on her lap. Drawings and pasted photos decorated the outside, inside were some of her daughter’s most treasured belongings: the second place ribbon from her third grade science fair, a certificate of appreciation for volunteering with the special needs class, several shells from a visit to the beach, and various other odds and ends. 

The box wasn’t even half full, but nothing else would ever be added to it. 

Tears fell freely down Sheryl’s face, catching in the limp and tangled mahogany hair that tumbled over her shoulders. 

“I’m sorry.”

The words brought her back to the present and she looked up to see one of her best friends, Liam, sitting in the chair next to her hospital bed. His gray eyes were filled with worry and his dirty blond hair disheveled. A screen behind him showed an interview and training for an upcoming contestant on  _ The Tower. _

“There’s really nothing left?” Sheryl asked, voice rough from lack of use. 

“We saved what we could,” Liam explained. “But by the time we knew what was happening the bank seizure was already well underway. We were able to save things that had no monetary value... for the most part. I managed to bribe one of the crew to look the other way so I could get your original wedding bands and a necklace Jonathan gave you, the one with the sapphires and amethyst, but a supervisor came by and I wasn’t able to get any more of your jewelry.”

Sheryl nodded mutely, still hoping that she’d wake up next to her husband and everything would have been a nightmare. 

“We got most of the photo albums, though a few had been destroyed before we arrived. Sasha’s awards and trophies are in storage along with her uniforms, a couple journals and other personal things. Benny’s stuffed monkey and the receiving blanket your aunt crocheted are there too, but he didn’t have as much we could grab. He was just too young to have all those memories.”

Sheryl nodded again. Her head had started to hurt from crying. 

“Sher?”

She looked up, Liam was worried, she could see it on his face. She caught the sight of a tree outside the window, fresh buds on the branches. “What month is it?”

“It’s the beginning of April.”

Fresh tears streamed down her face. The last thing she remembered before waking up in the hospital was leaving a concert in November. 

“It… it was at least quick for them? They didn’t suffer?”

Liam reached out and squeezed her hand. “Jonathan and Sasha were pronounced at the scene. The doctors tried to save Benny, but the nanomachines determined there was too much damage to his organs to repair. He never woke up, so didn’t know any pain.”

“The funerals?”

“Beautiful, and well attended. Your family was loved by everybody. They were buried together.”

For the first time since waking up Sheryl felt a flash of hope. “They were buried?”

Liam nodded. “An anonymous donor paid for cemetery plots instead of automatic reclamation.”

“Anonymous?”

Liam nodded, and Sheryl felt fresh tears sting her eyes. “I… I can’t even thank them for giving me a chance to say goodbye. Cemetery plots are so expensive too… I… I...”

Liam patted her hand. 

“I could never have afforded one…” Sheryl whispered. “Three plots is just insane. Only the wealthy can afford burials.”

“Your story touched somebody.”

“My story?”

“Do you remember that night?”

“I remember the concert, the kids were tired. Benny was getting fussy so we left during intermission."

“What else?”

Sheryl squeezed her eyes and tried to remember. “Cops… something was odd, and I called the police.”

“You prevented a dissident attack.”

Sheryl’s eyes flew open. “I what?”

“According to what we were able to figure out, you spotted a suspicious person, and called police. They were able to keep people in the concert hall until the threat was defused. If you hadn’t left early a lot of people would have died.”

“I… wow…”

“It’s your voice on the recordings Sher. You saved a lot of lives.”

“But…”

Liam squeezed her hand. 

For several minutes the only sounds in the room were the soft hums of machines, the noise from the hall, and the barked orders of a drill sergeant from the nearly muted screen. 

Liam jumped, and touched his right temple. “Yes… I’m here…”

Sheryl smiled softly as her friend accepted the call, and he apologized with a concerned glance. 

Liam was obviously listening to whoever had called, “Ok, I’ll be there soon.” He stood as soon as he touched his temple again.

“Still using physical acknowledgements rather than AR controls?” Sheryl asked, a small smile at her friend’s outdated ways.

“Only for voice calls. My secretary has been trying to get me to a virtual cafe for the past several minutes, but I kept refusing the invitation.”

“Patient?”

Liam nodded. “I’m so sorry Sher. It’s an emergency. Janice said I have a patient contemplating suicide. I have to go.”

“I understand. You can’t drop everything for me.”

Liam frowned. “I tried to clear my schedule as soon as you woke up. You may not be a patient, but I know better than anybody you’ll need to be able to talk about everything. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Sheryl nodded. “I… I think I need some time anyway. The doctors and nurses didn’t tell me anything, I think they were waiting for you. But... “

Liam reached over and squeezed her hand. “I understand. It’s a lot to take in. Call me if you need, any time, I don’t care. I’ll drop everything.”

Sheryl nodded again. 

Liam leaned over and kissed Sheryl’s forehead. “I’m here for you Sher.”

“Thank you.”

She watched her best friend leave, a man she’d known longer than her, now deceased, husband. 

Sheryl returned her attention to the box and stared at it, trying to piece together the tattered ends of her life. 

She remembered the concert. 

She remembered Benny fussing. 

She remembered the rain as Jonathan sat in the front seat of the pod, ready to take control if the weather proved too much for the auto-drive system. 

She remembered the explosion, then waking up in the hospital. 

Her family was dead, probably as retribution for preventing a dissident attack. It was a common tactic to discourage people from reporting suspicious activity. 

She was alone and homeless. The bank had seized the house, and it was thanks to friends that even a few precious memories had been saved. 

Sheryl stared at the box in her lap. Every second in the hospital put her further into debt, but she knew she needed rehabilitation after months of being unconscious. Even the best nanomachines couldn’t prevent muscles from weakening. 

Liam had told her that she was a hero, but she’d likely spend the rest of her life paying off the cost of her survival.

Bright afternoon light turned orange as the sun sank in the sky. The sounds of training and commentary continued to come from the screen. At some point Sheryl ordered dinner, still too numb to do anything more than simply exist. 

Noises, and whispers from the hall. There was a knock at the door, and an attendant walked in with her food. The young woman’s face was ashen. 

Sheryl blinked, wondering what about her dinner could scare somebody so badly. 

The attendant confirmed Sheryl’s name and order, then bolted from the room. 

Sheryl turned her attention to the tray, and that was when she saw the envelope, royal purple with gold leaf text. 

_ You Are A Contestant,  _ it proclaimed in bold lettering.

Sheryl felt her heart stop. She squeezed her eyes shut, and opened them again, positive that the envelope was a figment of her imagination. 

It was still there. She reached out with a shaking hand and picked it up. 

The envelope, it was the most famous item in the world. Everybody dreamed of getting one, but only fifty-two people a year were so lucky... out of the estimated six billion in the right age and health range. . 

She slipped her thumb underneath the flap, which popped open. Her fingers trembled as she pulled the card from inside. 

The font on the front was ornate, also in gold leaf.  _ You’ve Been Selected… _

Sheryl turned over the card to glance at the back. Curiosity got the better of her and she looked for something that was rumored to exist, but had supposedly never been used. 

In small, simple text without the opulence of the front was a simple line.  _ To decline this invitation please contact… _

The line was followed by a number. For a moment Sheryl considered calling, would she really be the first if she did? Was there any notoriety in being the first to be selected and refuse?

She took a deep breath, turned the card over again and opened it. 

> _ Sheryl Callaghan,  _
> 
> _ Congratulations! You have been selected as a contestant on the 125th season of  _ The Tower.  _ You have forty-eight hours from receipt of this notification to make arrangements regarding any obligations, at the end of this time you will be transported to Dreams Island for rehabilitation and training.  _
> 
> _ Should you choose to refuse this invitation please contact the number on the back of the card before the end of your forty-eight hour time period.  _
> 
> _ Thank You & Congratulations! _
> 
> _ -The Tower Production Staff _

Sheryl stared for several minutes before a dry laugh escaped her lips. Even if she wanted to refuse she couldn’t. It was the only possible escape from the hospital debt that continued to build by the second. In order to live without that burden, she’d have to risk her life.

She slid the card back into the envelope and opened a menu in her AR panel as she ate. She placed a call to Liam. 

“Sher? You ok?”

“Can you come by tonight?” she asked. “I… I received the card.”

“I’ll be right over.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheryl starts to come to terms with her status as a contestant, while Liam tries to convince her to refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who have already subscribed and commented on this work. There's a bit more subtle worldbuilding here so that you get a glimpse into the world beyond the show. 
> 
> Because this is an original work, it really depends on word of mouth, so please hit that share button up above, or reblog posts about it on tumblr (or other social media). 
> 
> Thanks and happy reading!

“You can’t do this!” Liam exclaimed, pacing the hospital room.

“You know most people dream of this,” Sheryl countered. 

“And you never seemed to be one of them!”

Sheryl sighed. Liam was right, and she didn’t have an argument. She might have had the passing fantasy, but being on  _ The Tower _ hadn’t been a lifelong dream as it was for so many others.

Liam stopped pacing and stared at her. “Please Sher, don’t do it. There’s an opt-out number for a reason. People die on that show! It’s not some false threat!”

“Don’t you think I know that?” she spat. “I considered it, I really did. But I don’t have the luxury of choice.”

“It’s suicide!”

“It’s a possible escape! The  _ only _ possible escape!”

“There are other ways to get your life back! You can pay off the hospital debt.”

“How?” Sheryl begged. “Give me an option, please! The house is gone, we didn’t have much equity in it, but that doesn’t matter now anyway. Do I even have a job anymore?”

Liam sighed. 

“You know the answer. There are too many people out of work to leave it open for more than a couple weeks. Even if I  _ could _ find another job quickly, it wouldn’t be at the same pay. I’d been there a long time, and had worked through raises. Heck, they were probably happy to fill my position because then they could scale back to new employee pay!”

“Sheryl, you have a degree, two… You’re well educated! And I’m sure your former bosses would be willing to write recommendation letters given the circumstances.”

“Half the people who are unemployed are well educated! I bet a fair number have good references too. Get a degree and you’re automatically overqualified for so many jobs, and the ones that you  _ are  _ qualified for are highly competitive. Don’t you remember how hard I worked to get  _ that _ job, how many applications I filled out when we were roommates? It took a year and a half as an unpaid intern, and another half year of almost daily followups just to get in.”

Liam nodded and sighed. 

“I wish I could have gone into therapy like you, it’s not as bad. But I know I don’t have the aptitude for it. So many fields just have too many people and not enough positions.”

“Come stay with Chad and I then,” Liam begged. “Our place isn’t big, but we have a spare room. You’ll at least be able to look for work and have a roof other than a shelter.”

“I can’t put you out like that! You’ve been trying to adopt for years, and you have to have that room for it to be approved. If I’m in there when your name comes up you’ll be kicked to the back of the line without question!”

Liam pulled a chair around and sat down. He put his hands to either side of his head and clawed at his scalp. “It’s so stupid! There are houses full of children because people have nothing better to do than have sex, and they’re not required to have a space allotment for each child. But we can’t even help a friend without worrying about not having a designated room for a child that would still likely take another year for paperwork to process.”

“I can’t kill that chance Liam,” Sheryl said softly. “You’ve been on the list so long, and you were so excited when you were informed that your review would be within the year.”

Liam made a noise of frustration. “There has to be a way Sher. There has to be something we can do.”

“I’m all ears.”

Liam made another frustrated noise. 

“Look, we’ve got almost two full days,” Sheryl said with a sigh. “If we come up with a real, viable option I’ll make the call. But we have to be realistic. I’ve probably got a couple months of rehabilitation. I can look for a job during that time, but, even if I do luck out and find something,  nobody will bring me on until I can be counted on to handle a flex schedule. No company offers guaranteed hours to a new hire. In the end I’ll only be falling further into debt.”

Liam stood and resumed pacing. “You just woke up, it’s not even been a full twenty-four hours since the doctors cleared you for visitors. How can they expect you to make this decision so soon?”

Sheryl clenched her fists. “Don’t you think I know that? The whole thing stinks! But I don’t have the luxury of time.”

Liam looked about to say something when there was a knock on the doorframe. Both he and Sheryl turned to see a nurse standing in the entry. 

“I’m sorry, but visiting hours are nearly over,” he said politely. 

Sheryl nodded. “Thank you.”

The man left, and Liam gave her a plaintive look. “Please, make the call.”

Sheryl shook her head. “I can’t, and you know it. Not until I have a better option in place.”

They stared at each other. 

“Li?”

“Yeah?”

“Be on my team.”

Liam stared. “What?”

“Be on my support team.”

“Why would I do that?” he yelled. “I don’t want you to go on that show at all! Why would I be on your support team?”

Sheryl sighed. “Look, I’m still open to any other option we have. But you know as well as I do that the likelihood of one existing is slim.”

Liam glared. 

“Please Li, I need you. You know as well as anybody that dirty psychological tricks are part of the game. You know me, you know my quirks. You did mock therapy sessions with me so many times in college that you know me just as well as Jonathan did.”

Liam returned to the chair, his knees bouncing nervously. “I’m no good with puzzles, and I’d push you to get out rather than grab money vouchers or goods. I’m probably the last person you’d want on support.”

“You’re good with  _ me _ . I don’t intend to die Li. I have friends who are good with puzzles, and ones who can identify the most valuable items in a room at a glance. But I need somebody who can keep me focused.”

A thick silence fell between them. 

“Please Li. I need you.”

“Promise you’ll make the call if we come up with any option that prevents you from going on that show?”

“Yes.”

Liam nodded, hesitated, then spoke. “Ok. If we don’t have any other option then I’ll be on your support team.”

Sheryl reached out, and Liam stood. He walked over, leaned over the hospital bed and hugged her. “I’ll make sure you get out alive.”

“Thanks Li.”

There was another knock at the door, and Liam’s face fell. 

“Bring Chad by tomorrow?” Sheryl asked. “I should visit with him before they take me to the island.”

“Of course,” Liam nodded. “What else do you need?”

“I want to see Jonathan and the kids.”

Liam nodded again. “I don’t know if I can make it happen, but I’ll try to pull some strings. Is there a support number you can call?”

“I don’t recall. I was too shocked to look for one.”

“Take a look. This might be a place where the producers have a bit of influence.”

Sheryl nodded, and Liam kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow, and I’ll bring Chad by as well. He’ll be happy to see you.”

“Thanks.”

“Anybody else?”

“Janice… and Becky. I think I need them as the other two on my team. But I need to tell them face to face, not over an AR call.”

“Ok.”

“Otherwise, anybody else you can think of. There’s just no time, and I still can’t do anything more than call.”

“Any idea when the doctors will restore full functionality to your implants?”

Sheryl shook her head. “They say they’re limiting for now to check for any lasting complications. Then they want to do a flush to get rid of the restorative nanomachines to prevent any interference. For all I know it might be something the doctors on the island end up doing.”

“If you go…”

“If I go…” Sheryl agreed with a sigh. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Liam said, standing up and running his hand through his hair nervously. 

“I’ll be ok,” Sheryl said softly. “I’m not going to die there.”

Liam cast her an uncertain smile, but nodded. “No, you’re strong. You’re a survivor. I’ll make sure you come home.”

Sheryl smiled. “Go, before the nurses start badgering you. Besides, I bet your husband is waiting.”

Liam smiled. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Sheryl waited until Liam was out of sight, then pulled the card free from the envelope again. She examined it carefully. It was royal purple on the outside, just like the envelope. The lettering on the front was ornate in gold-leaf, while the opt-out on the reverse was in a light grey block print. 

Inside the card was a cream colored insert, and the text retained an ornate feel, but was easier to read and in charcoal lettering. 

Nothing seemed to indicate a support line, until she pulled back the insert slightly. Printed on the reverse were numbers for questions, legal, financial assistance for primary earners, and, finally, pre-departure support. 

Sheryl hesitated. She knew calling the number pretty well signified her acceptance to be on the show. 

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry Liam, but I really don’t think we’ll find any other way.”

She looked at the card again, and input the number into her voice communication panel.

“Good evening Mrs. Callaghan. How may we help you prepare for your trip to Dreams Island?” a pleasant male voice sounded almost immediately. 

Sheryl blinked a couple times before responding, not expecting to be asked so bluntly. “I’d like to visit the graves of my family before departure. However I’m still in a wheelchair and not cleared to leave by the hospital.”

“A memorial visit can be arranged. However, I must inform you that all pre-departure activities we assist with will be recorded and subject to broadcast as part of your run.”

Sheryl swallowed thickly. “Can I request no audio and a respectful distance?”

“You may, but it will incur an offset fee.”

“Offset fee?”

There was a moment of silence, then, “My apologies. It appears that your contestant manual was not delivered yet due to the inactive status on your implants. A physical copy was requested but won’t arrive at your location for another few hours as it is still in printing. Would you like me to explain what an offset fee is?”

“Yes, please.”

“All contestants are allocated a budget upon selection. Dormitory style lodging, class one meals, medical care, and basic training are all provided free of charge, however your budget will be used to offset costs of room upgrades, changes to your meal plan, specialty training, and other incidentals. Privacy is considered subject to offset as viewers like that insight into your life.”

Sheryl briefly recalled the episodes of contestant profiles that she’d watched and how it had detailed their priorities leading up to their runs. Now she understood a bit more of how that was determined. 

“How large is my budget?”

“Your current budget is half a million dollars.”

Sheryl was glad she was already sitting. “Why so much?”

“You’ll find that many contestants consider it not enough, and there are plenty of sponsorship opportunities to supplement your budget. Offset fees are calculated depending on potential loss of revenue. For instance, class one meals are all provided by advertisers who have paid for air time and mentions.”

“Wow…” Sheryl breathed. 

“I’ve calculated the offset fee for a discreet distance of fifteen feet for video with no audio for a memorial visitation. Given the highly personal nature and projected viewer expectations… seventy-five thousand dollars.”

Sheryl thought she would faint. “Seventy-five… thousand?”

“Yes. Viewer habit surveys have concluded that audiences like seeing these elements in a contestant profile. However, we can reduce that to fifty-thousand if you agree to censored audio, in which you can ask that up to fifty-percent of audio be removed.”

Sheryl was dumbstruck. Could she really use ten percent of a budget for privacy when she didn’t even know what other things would cost?

“You said there are sponsorship opportunities?”

“Yes, details will be provided upon your arrival.”

“What if I decide to opt-out after this call?”

“Your visit would be scheduled after your opt-out period has ended.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Ok. Let’s… do the one with censored audio.”

There was a brief pause, then, “I’ve scheduled a memorial visitation for the day of your departure. Cameras will keep a discreet fifteen foot or greater distance, and you’ll be able to review and request removal of up to half the recorded audio. You will be charged an offset fee of fifty-thousand dollars, but can opt for less privacy at reduced cost until filming begins.”

There was a pause. “There appears to be a sponsorship offer. A part of the offset fee will be waived for a product endorsement.”

“I… what?”

“If you choose to make a product endorsement during your audio a sponsoring company will pay a portion of your offset fee. If you wear approved items a smaller amount will be paid by those companies.”

“How did they...?”

“Product placement companies bid in real time for opportunities. Should I send details?”

Sheryl thought for a moment. “I’ll look into the things I can wear, I won’t make an audio endorsement.”

“I’ll send over sponsorship details for these offers. They should arrive with your contestant manual. Please let us know of any selections within twenty-four hours so we can have the appropriate items on hand.”

“Ok.”

“Do you have any questions?”

“Not right now… thank you.”

“Thank you for being a contestant.”

The call ended, and Sheryl ran her hand over her hair. She’d always recognized that there was a lot of footage of contestants, but was just coming to terms with the fact that everything she did would be recorded until she made her way out of her tower, and probably after.

She flopped back onto the pillows and started to cry. Her family and home were gone, and any sense of normalcy as well. She was a contestant. Live or die, her life would never be the same again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate any comments, kudos or shares. 
> 
> So you can already get a glimpse of how much monetization of contestants comes into play, also how desperate the world situation is. 
> 
> We've probably got one or two more chapters in the hospital and mainland before we're off to the island to begin training. 
> 
> Please subscribe for updates. Learn more about _The Tower_ on my website at [phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/](http://www.phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/)
> 
> I'm hanging out a lot on tumblr these days at [phoenixwaller.tumblr.com](http://phoenixwaller.tumblr.com). I'm also on plurk and twitter at @phoenixwaller, and my author page on facebook is @JenniferLWaller
> 
> \---------------------------------
> 
> Find my YoI fanfics on my AO3 profile at <http://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixwaller/profile>


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam's husband, Chad, visits Sheryl in the hospital and attempts to dissuade her from participating in the show. Later Sheryl builds the rest of her support team with her friends Becky and Janice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading so far.
> 
> Since this is an original work it doesn't have an existing fan base to draw from, so word of mouth is critical to getting it seen. So if you've been enjoying this work please click the share button up above and spread the love. 
> 
> Happy Reading!

Chad leaned over the rail of the bed and embraced Sheryl. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his strong torso. 

“It’s good to see you awake,” Chad said, warmth in his brown eyes as he took a seat. “We were all worried that we’d lose you too.”

Sheryl looked down at where Chad’s mocha hands clasped her own pale one. “It’s still hard to believe they’re gone. I keep hoping that I’ll wake up and that this will all have been a horrible nightmare.”

“Can I join you in that hope?”

Sheryl looked up and smiled softly at her friend. “Please do. Maybe if enough people hope, it’ll come true.”

“Then I’ll hope with everything I have.”

Sheryl smiled and squeezed his hand. 

Chad was silent for a moment. “Please reconsider Sher. Liam and I talked it over last night. We’re willing to take the risk that we get moved back in the adoption line. We don’t want to lose you so soon after getting you back.”

Sheryl shook her head. “I just can’t do that to you. You both worked so hard to have all your paperwork in, and have everything ready for an adoption. They’re getting more selective every day, who knows if you’d reach this level of approval again. You’re both approaching thirty, which was already being debated as a new cutoff before…” Sheryl faltered and waved her hands to indicate what happened to her. “Then there are those who would try to argue against you because you’re a same-sex couple.”

Chad rolled his eyes. “There are also the really strange ones who insist that because I have mixed race parentage that I won’t be able to give a child a proper culture. We can’t worry about what other people think of Liam and I. We  _ can _ worry about you though.”

A part of Sheryl wanted to take her friends up on their offer, to stay with them until she found a job and a place to live, then work off the debt. 

She remembered the joy on their faces when they announced that they had met all the prerequisites and were officially in line for adoption. She remembered the party they’d thrown as even that stage was so difficult to reach. 

She thought of the waiting lists for even the most basic pod apartments or communal complexes, assuming she even had a job to afford one. 

Sheryl started to cry. “I can’t Chad. I just can’t. There’s no way to know when your next inspection will be, or how long until I could find a place. I just can’t take away your hope. You’re both going to make great fathers. You were always so good with Sasha and Benny, I mean we put you two in our will in case something happened and the kids were left alone.”

Chad sighed. “We’re not going to sway you, are we?”

“Only if we can come up with something that keeps you in the adoption line.”

“Is there anybody else you could stay with?”

Sheryl shook her head. “No. Becky’s got a single room in an already overcrowded house. Janice is in a pod apartment with regular checks. She has to get special permission if somebody else is there for more than a single night.”

“Nobody else?”

Sheryl shook her head again. “You know how hard it is to get housing. Most people I know are either in pods, community situations with strict visitor rules or shelters. You and Liam are among the lucky ones with a real apartment. It was like a dream being in an actual house with Jonathan’s pay.”

Chad sighed. “I hate this Sher.”

“So do I.”

“The bank gave you no leeway on the house considering the circumstances?”

Sheryl shook her head. “It went to foreclosure after six weeks, then auctioned. I would have had to sell it anyway, there’s no way I could have kept it without Jonathan’s salary. But since they claimed it they kept the profit from the sale.”

Sheryl clenched her fists. 

“How much?”

“Three times what we paid.” Sheryl started to cry again. “But of course I’m still being charged repossession, foreclosure, cleaning and auction fees.”

“Oh god Sher.”

“I… I… Chad, there’s just nothing left. Only what you, Liam, and Janice were able to get out.”

“Life insurance?”

“Already drained for hospital bills, and I think the funerals.”

“No wonder Liam was so stressed.”

“He doesn’t want me to go, but I just don’t know of any other way.”

Chad sighed, was silent a moment, then nodded. “What do you need from me?”

Sheryl took a deep breath. “Keep Liam centered. He can do amazing things for his patients, but you know how wrapped around himself he gets when it’s his friends. I need him for this, and he’ll need you.”

Chad nodded. “I can do that. But what do  _ you _ need?”

Sheryl pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, grimacing at the pain from protesting muscles. “I need Jonathan. Sasha… Benny…” She buried her head against her knees. “I need my family Chad.”

“Oh Sher.” Chad’s strong arms wrapped around her. “I’m so sorry.”

She sniffled. “What do I do now? I mean… I know that I’m about to be in training. I’m going to have a chance at what so many people dream of. But… they’re all gone. Even when I leave the island… they’ll still be gone.”

Chad lifted her chin, she looked into his eyes, and noticed the circles under them, barely visible with his already dark skin. 

“We’re still here. Liam and I will help however we can, you know this. I’m sure there are counselors on the island, a lot of contestants seem to have tragic stories, and that’s before the stress of being on the show, but call us if you need - whenever you need. We’ll always hear you out.”

Sheryl nodded. 

“You’re going to live Sher. You still have time to back out, but if you go, you’re going to live. You’re strong, and you survived already.”

Sheryl reached out and took Chad’s hand as he sat again. “I’m scared.”

“I think that’s a perfectly natural response.”

There was a knock at the door and a nurse poked her head in. “Time for your physical therapy Mrs. Callaghan.” 

Chad stood. “I’ll come back with Liam tonight. Maybe if we double-team you we can convince you to refuse.”

Sheryl chuckled. “I’m honestly glad you two are so adamant about trying to get me to stay. I think most people would have family and friends pushing instead.”

“Only the families and friends that don’t care about each other.”

“Everybody is convinced that they’re stronger, that they’ll survive. Those close to them believe it too.” Sheryl looked down at her lap. “I can’t even walk right now. They’re going to take me to a therapy pool and just have me move as much as I can against the water resistance.”

“You’ll get there Sher, and… we still have that spare room whenever you realize that staying is the better option.”

Sheryl smiled again. “Thank you.”

Chad leaned over the bed and kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you tonight. Liam said that Janice and Becky are coming together after your therapy.”

“Tonight then.”

An orderly helped Sheryl into a wheelchair and followed several paces behind the self-driving device as they headed to the therapy unit. Another orderly helped her into the hospital’s strange but easy to put on swimwear, then she was helped into a waterproof wheelchair and taken to the therapy pool. 

She was halfway through a series of leg lifts, getting her leg muscles used to working again, when several men in suits and one in a doctor’s lab coat strolled into the center. 

Sheryl noticed her therapist’s eyes narrow, and the middle-aged woman gave instructions to an orderly while she walked over to them. “May I help you gentlemen?”

Sheryl watched as the therapist and the men moved several paces away to talk, however the conversation quickly turned sour and she heard an exclaimed, “You can test all you like day after tomorrow, but for now she’s  _ my _ patient and is on  _ my  _ approved schedule.”

The therapist refused to answer any more questions and after a bit the men left. 

“What was that about?” Sheryl asked as the woman came to sit at the side of the pool again. 

“They wanted me to pull you from the water and run you through a series of tests to determine where your strength and mobility are at.”

“Oh…”

The woman frowned. “I also recognized one of them… from a pharmaceutical nanotech development company...”

“Ok?”

“He’s been wanting me to try a new line of nanomachines in patients with needs like yours.”

“Oh. Is that a bad thing?”

“Nanomachines are fine for tissue repair and for muscular stimulation to prevent damage during coma, but we do more than just help you rebuild your muscles. We develop plans to make sure it’s right for you, and that particular company is fond of one-size-fits-all solutions.”

“I see…”

“Sheryl?”

“Yes?”

“You’re not going to be my patient after tomorrow, but a word of advice: if you have any say in the matter, don’t let them use unapproved nanomachines. Do the hard work yourself to rebuild your muscles.”

“You think they’d do that?”

The woman let out a sarcastic laugh. “Half their contestants die… more. It’s the perfect testing ground. Find out how it works in the field and short term side effects, just enough to rush it through approval without knowing any long-term effects as a number of participants died in non-related ways.”

“I thought the doctors on the island used top-of-the-line medical technology… that’s what they always say in the training and bio segments.”

“Top-of-the-line is a fancy way of saying newest, and sometimes so new that it’s still in testing. Question everything they give you, and ask yourself if you need it. Trust your own instincts.”

Sheryl was hesitant. “Ok?”

The therapist grimaced but nodded. “I’ve got you today and tomorrow. Let’s build as much muscle as possible the right way, before those vultures get their claws into you.”

Sheryl nodded, wondering to herself if what the therapist said was true. 

* * *

 

Janice and Becky were waiting for Sheryl when she got back to her room. Becky, energetic as ever, rushed over to embrace her friend, blonde waves bouncing. Janice, the more reserved of the two stood on the far side of the bed, long black hair draping over her shoulders. 

“Sheryl,” Becky cried, slumping against Sheryl and the wheelchair. “We were so worried we were going to lose you too!”

Sheryl patted Becky’s head. “I’m here.”

Janice spoke from where she still stood on the far side of the bed. “What’s up? Liam contacted us and said we needed to come here. That we needed to talk in person. I mean I’m glad to see you, but there was something about his tone of voice that concerns me.”

Sheryl sighed, Janice would never miss Liam’s concern when it came to her. She turned to the orderly who had followed her in. “Can we get a second chair please?”

The young woman nodded then went in search of another chair. 

“Down Becky,” Janice said after a minute. “I’m sure that she needs to be put back in her bed once the orderly tracks down a chair.”

Becky nodded against Sheryl’s neck then stood. They moved aside as another chair was brought in, then Sheryl was helped back into her bed. Finally they were alone, the orderly closing the door on the way out. 

“Ok Sher,” Janice said as soon as they had privacy. “What’s up? Why did Liam sound more concerned than he has in months?”

Sheryl reached under a stack of things on her bed table and pulled out the envelope. She watched as both of her friends’ eyes grew wide before passing it over to Janice first. 

“This is a hoax, right?” Janice asked after reading the card. “Just a prank.”

Sheryl shook her head. “I leave tomorrow, unless I opt out before then.” She pointed to a nondescript printed book on the table. “That is the contestant manual.”

“Well that explains why Liam went from elated to devastated in just a single day.”

Janice passed the envelope to Becky, who was silent for once. 

Sheryl nodded. “He and Chad have both begged me not to go. They even went so far as to offer the room they’re keeping open for the adoption.”

“But if they do that…” Becky cut in, sadness in her green eyes. 

Sheryl nodded again. “I’ve already turned them down.”

Becky whined, obviously torn over seeing their friends with the baby they’d wanted for so long versus Sheryl’s safety. 

“Do I need to tell you that they’re right?” Janice asked. “You need to refuse, if for no other reason than this is emotional manipulation at its worst. You’ve been out of a coma for a few days, not weeks, not months, days. You just found out that you lost your entire family. You haven’t even had a chance to properly grieve. You haven’t had a chance to fully take stock of all the changes you woke up to. The timing is obviously an attempt to force you into a quick and uninformed decision.”

Sheryl sighed. “Give me another option. I’m homeless, jobless, and currently in a hospital that pushes me further into debt each day. I went from a fairly stable life to one where I could be working to pay off these debts until I die.”

“That’s the exact line of reasoning they want you to have.”

“I know this, but where is it wrong?”

Janice was silent, and Becky turned her head to stare at the floor.

Sheryl decided it was better to jump in rather than have the same argument again. “I need you both on my support team.”

Janice’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Becky’s head shot up, eyes wide in shock. 

“Janice, you’re good with puzzles and are observant. Becky, you have an uncanny ability to be able to identify exactly what something is and its value at a glance.”

“Should we assume Liam is the third?” Janice asked.  

Sheryl nodded. 

Janice sighed. “I don’t like this, and a part of me wants to refuse.”

“Please… I need you.”

Becky looked between Janice and Sheryl several times. 

Janice nodded. “Fine, but only because I want to see you come back alive.”

“I’ll help too!” Becky said with a relieved sob as she dramatically flopped herself over Sheryl. “I’ll make sure you’re the richest person to ever escape!”

Sheryl laughed before an uncomfortable silence filled the room. 

There was a knock at the door, and Liam let himself in. He nodded to Janice and Becky. 

“You could have warned us,” Janice said with an exasperated sigh. “That was a bit of a shock.”

Liam ran his hand over his hair. “Sorry, but it wasn’t my place.”

“I told him I wanted to tell you face-to-face,” Sheryl said. 

Janice shook her head. “I guess I have to accept that.”

Sheryl looked between her friends: Liam, her rock in the absence of her husband. He would be the one to push her. Janice, seemingly cold, because she’d rather focus on puzzles to be solved than emotion. And Becky, always energetic and hopeful and with an eye for the extravagant. 

“I guess it’s official then,” Sheryl said after a moment. “Assuming we don’t find a way for me to avoid this, you three are now my support team.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate any comments, kudos or shares. 
> 
> Next chapter Sheryl will visit the graves of her family for goodbyes before heading to Dreams Island as an official contestant. 
> 
> Please subscribe for updates. Learn more about _The Tower_ on my website at [phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/](http://www.phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/)
> 
> I'm hanging out a lot on tumblr these days at [phoenixwaller.tumblr.com](http://phoenixwaller.tumblr.com). I'm also on plurk and twitter at @phoenixwaller, and my author page on facebook is @JenniferLWaller
> 
> \---------------------------------
> 
> Find my YoI fanfics on my AO3 profile at <http://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixwaller/profile>


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of Sheryl's departure arrives, and her friends make one last effort to convince her to refuse. Then film crews arrive with the host of the show, and they all see just what changes await.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments and love on this story. 
> 
> If you're enjoying it please use the share button above, reblog my posts about it on tumblr, or otherwise talk about it. Since it's an original work and has no fanbase to draw on word of mouth is the best way for people to find out about it.

Sheryl tried, and failed, to stifle a yawn. She’d hardly slept the night before, and her friends had all shown up as soon as visiting hours started. Liam, Chad, Janice and Becky surrounded her bed, tossing ideas back and forth. 

Housing and jobs were the core issues, and the ones that caused the group to go in circles. Sheryl outright refused to take Liam and Chad’s open room and risk their chance of being approved for an adoption. Janice had looked into waiting lists for pods, and Becky for communal situations, but even the shortest waitlists were estimated to be months long at best. 

Months in which Sheryl would have to stay in a shelter… once the hospital found one, as she wouldn’t be released to the streets. 

Everybody agreed that a shelter was worse than the show. Sexual assault and violent crime were rampant; more beds opened up because the occupant died than moved on. There was always somebody waiting to fill it though. It was at least a roof and a chance to escape the elements. 

Sheryl listened to her friends debate pooling money and trying to bribe her to a higher spot on a list. They tossed names of other friends and family members, trying to find out if anybody knew anybody with a place for a bed. 

Sheryl answered questions about her extended family. Did the aunt that raised her have space? Cousins? Did anybody owe her deceased parents any favors?

Desperation built in the room until Sheryl had enough. 

“Stop it!” Sheryl cried, bunching the blankets in her fists. “Just stop. We’re out of time, and I’d rather enjoy this time with you than watch you bicker over the futility of it all.”

Liam sat on the edge of her bed and took her hand. “Please Sher, please refuse. There’s still time. We’ll figure out something before you leave the hospital, I promise.”

She felt tears at the corners of her eyes as she gazed at her friend. “I wish I could believe that, I really do. But we know the chances of me having a home, or a job, when I leave here is almost impossible. I’d probably have to stay in one of the therapy center’s patient rooms until a spot at a shelter opened up, and going further into debt while I wait.”

Becky walked over and climbed onto the bed to sit beside Sheryl. She wrapped her arms around her and buried her head in her shoulder. “I don’t want you to go Sher.”

Sheryl curled her free hand around to ruffle her friend’s hair. “I don’t want to go either. But there really isn’t another choice. Not if I want to have a chance to rebuild my life. Not if I want to live without the shadow of debt from this. If things were different… if I hadn’t received that card… maybe if I really had no choice whatsoever. But I do. I have the chance to escape without putting an undue burden on anybody else.”

“You’re a hero though,” Liam pressed. “Surely somebody who was saved that night can pull strings. We haven’t exhausted all the options.”

Sheryl squeezed his hand. “And how long do those wheels take to start turning? Besides... I stopped one dissident attack, I’m sure others have been stopped since, and others have been successful. Who’s going to care about something that happened half a year ago now when there’s an attack every week at least?”

Liam sat moved to sit on the chair in frustration, holding his head and knees bouncing anxiously. Sheryl smiled as Chad walked behind his husband and wrapped his arms around him. Chad kissed Liam’s hair and whispered something before Liam looked up again. 

“We’re really not going to convince you, are we?” Janice asked. 

Sheryl shook her head. “I can’t put you guys out, I can’t ask for you to go to the lengths you’re suggesting. It’s too much a risk to you.”

“Isn’t that our call to make?” Liam begged. “You didn’t ask, we offered.”

Sheryl nodded. “It is your call, but this is mine. I’ve decided I won’t risk any of your hopes and dreams. I won’t put your futures in jeopardy for my own sake.”

“You’d have done the same for any of us!” Liam protested. 

“And before Jonathan’s death we had the resources to do so!” Sheryl squeezed her eyes shut. “Don’t think I don’t know how privileged I was. I lived in a real house, no matter how modest. It was just my family. My children each had a room of their own. I know how rare that is. Things aren’t equal! If any of you were in this position we could have easily housed one of you, no restrictions. If you needed help for a pod we could have taken the hit to the budget without a huge impact. This isn’t the same!”

“Sher…” Janice started.

Sheryl fisted her hands in the blankets again. “Yes, we would have helped any of you, all of you. Even if we hadn’t been so comfortable we would have. But it’s just not the same. Rents change with only a week’s notice. That money you’re talking about pooling to bribe me into a higher waiting spot, could be the difference between having a place yourself and being homeless next month. Do you think I want that?”

Silence fell in the room. 

“Please…” Sheryl said, almost a whisper. “Please… they’ll be here in a couple hours. Let’s just enjoy the time we have. I don’t know when I’ll see you all again.”

Becky was crying against Sheryl’s shoulder, Chad was holding Liam tight, and Janice stared at the floor. 

Liam stood and leaned over the bed. He wrapped his arms around Sheryl. “Ok Sher.”

Sheryl embraced Liam in return. “Thank you.”

* * *

 

Everybody watched the clock. They’d spent the past couple hours trying to ignore the looming deadline, but as it got closer it was an impossible task. 

“Will you all come with me?” Sheryl asked to break the silence. 

All eyes turned to look at her. 

“I… I don’t know if I can see Jonathan and the kids by myself… aside from the film crews I mean,” she explained. “It would mean a lot if you were there.”

“Of course we’ll come,” Janice said from where she sat at the foot of the bed. “There’s no way we’d leave you alone at a time like that.”

Becky nodded from where she had once again wrapped herself around Sheryl’s shoulders. 

Liam and Chad also nodded their agreement. 

There was a knock at the door and several men in suits strode in.

Becky’s arms tightened, and everybody else moved to unconsciously flank Sheryl. 

The men stepped forward one-by-one. An attorney had her sign initial paperwork indicating that she consented to being relocated, and a release to allow filming until they could go through the larger contracts on the island. When the attorney asked about Sheryl’s friends and she informed him that they would accompany her to the gravesite another round of releases were produced for them to sign. 

Various production staff introduced themselves and ran down the procedure. They would all exit, except for one of the cameramen, then a different group would return a few minutes later with her doctor for the official release and to meet the host. After that they would film her leaving the hospital and going to visit the graves of her family before officially departing for the island.

Sheryl nodded in a daze and Liam squeezed her hand one more time. “You can still back out Sher,” he said, leaning in to whisper in her ear.

Sheryl shook her head, and he sighed before sitting up again.

The production team talked for a minute amongst themselves, then turned to Sheryl and her friends. 

“Ok everybody,” said the director. Then, with large motions, “Big smiles! Sheryl’s a contestant now! This is exciting!”

Sheryl caught from the tone of voice that it was a fairly standard pep talk. She breathed a sigh of relief as everybody except for her friends and the cameraman left. 

“Thank you,” Sheryl whispered so only her friends could hear. “Thank you for being here with me for this.”

Liam squeezed her hand, and Becky hugged her tight. Chad smiled and Janice gave a slight nod. “We’ll always be by your side,” Liam whispered. 

“I just got the cue to roll,” the cameraman announced. “In five… four… three…” He stopped counting but Sheryl could make out gestures from the corner of her eye. 

There was a commotion in the hall, and everybody crowded closer around Sheryl. A moment later the host of the show, Clay Grayson, strode into the room, flanked by her doctor and another person that appeared to be a doctor as well.. 

She couldn’t miss the strained look to her doctor’s face. It reminded her of what her therapist had said. 

“Good afternoon Mrs. Callaghan,” the doctor said with an obviously fake smile. “I’m here to inform you that you are being transferred to the hospital on Dreams Island. Doctors there will oversee the remainder of your treatment and recovery. They’ve arranged all transportation and plan to depart immediately. Do you have any questions of me before I relinquish care of you?”

Sheryl shook her head. “No, thank you Doctor.”

The doctor looked pained. Sheryl really couldn’t blame him. She knew what it looked like. He’d just saved her, and now she was off to her death. 

He nodded, made a show of signing something, then turned to leave. 

“Doctor?”

He turned back, a brief glimmer of hope in his eyes. 

“Thank you, really. I probably wouldn’t be here today without you.”

His expression was unreadable as he nodded and left the room. 

The second doctor strode forward, a smile on his face that was reflected in his brown eyes. “Good afternoon Mrs. Callaghan,” he said with a slight accent. “I’m Juan Lucero, and I’m one of the doctors in charge of your recovery from this point forward. I’m currently in my residency and am overseen by the medical staff of Dreams Island, but will be your main point of contact for care.” He extended his hand and Sheryl shook it warily. 

“You’re in good hands Mrs. Callaghan,” he said jovially. “You’ll have the newest and most advanced care on the planet with us.”

Sheryl smiled weakly before remembering that she was supposed to be excited and forced a bigger one. 

Pleasantries exchanged, the host swooped in and perched himself on the edge of Sheryl’s bed, facing her. He held a slender microphone in one manicured hand. The lighting of the room reflected off his silver hair, but his grey eyes showed a calculating nature. 

“Mrs Callaghan… Sheryl… can I call you Sheryl?”

He continued before she’d even fully nodded. 

“Sheryl, let me be the first to welcome you to the one-hundred and twenty-fifth season of  _ The Tower _ . It’s quite a unique honor to be chosen. How do you feel?”

He thrust the microphone toward her, the sleeve of his royal-blue suit riding slightly higher on his wrist. 

“Overwhelmed…” Sheryl answered honestly. 

He pulled the microphone back. “A perfectly reasonable answer, considering all that’s happened.”

Sheryl nodded mutely. There was half a beat of silence before he took up the mantle of conversation again. 

“Let’s recap shall we?” he said exuberantly. “In November of twenty-one seventy-four you attended a concert with your family, and upon leaving early were able to prevent a dissident attack. Is that correct?”

Sheryl nodded. “It is.”

“Fantastic! Allow me to extend a thank you on behalf of all those you saved. You truly are a hero.”

“Thank you.”

“Unfortunately, you didn’t get to celebrate such an auspicious deed, did you?”

Sheryl shook her head. 

“On your way home from the concert there was an accident, am I correct?”

Sheryl nodded.  _ It’s easier to explain it as an accident than a retribution attack I guess, _ she thought to herself. 

“You lost your family in the accident, am I right? Your husband and your children?”

Sheryl nodded again. “Yes…” she managed, tears welling at the corners of her eyes. 

“What were their names?”

There was a microphone in her face, and Sheryl couldn’t stop the hiccupped sob that escaped her before she spoke. “My husband’s name was Jonathan. My daughter, Sasha, was nine, and my son Benny was two.”

“Tell us a bit about them.”

“Jonathan was an investment manager at a medium-sized brokerage. We met when I was about halfway through college and had to review the portfolio of my inheritance. We dated for almost a year before getting married.”

“You mentioned an inheritance. Your parents passed when you were younger, correct?”

Sheryl nodded again. “They owned a small factory, but died in a fire as they attempted to ensure that all the employees got out first. After that I was raised by my aunt.”

“It seems heroism runs in the family. So tell viewers a bit about your children.”

Liam passed Sheryl his handkerchief, which she used to dab at her eyes. 

“Sasha was born while I was still in college, and had just turned nine. She was vibrant and so excited about everything life offered. She loved martial arts, and did very well in competition.”

“And your son?”

“Benny was two, almost three. Monkeys were his favorite things, and he loved the color blue. He never went anywhere without his stuffed blue monkey, and was just so excited because we’d promised him a monkey theme for his birthday party.”

Sheryl sniffed and dabbed at her eyes again with the kerchief. 

“Apparently the funerals were held while you were still in a coma, am I correct?”

Sheryl nodded. 

“I’ve also heard that an anonymous donor provided your family with cemetery plots rather than having their remains sent for reclamation, yes?”

Sheryl nodded again. 

“What a generous gesture. Is there anything you would like to say?”

“Just… thank you so much. You’ve given me a chance to say goodbye.”

“Now Sheryl, I’ve heard that you’ve requested to visit their graves before departing for the island, yes?”

Sheryl nodded. 

“Fantastic! Well I won’t hold you up any longer then. We’ll let you get changed and ready to pay your respects, then we’ll be off to Dreams Island, where you’ll train for your run on the one-hundred and twenty-fifth season of  _ The Tower! _ ”

There was a dramatic pause, then somebody yelled “Cut!”

Clay patted Sheryl’s leg. “Great job kiddo, heartfelt and poignant.” He looked over to Liam. “That handkerchief was perfect, thank you.”

The host stood and adjusted the way his silk suit laid. “Now, wardrobe will be here in a few minutes with a few items to choose from. Remember, the more sponsor selected pieces you wear, the more of the offset fee is paid. Layer cautiously, or the payment might be reduced. Audiences who watch though enabled apps need to be able to select items from your outfit to be taken to sales pages.”

Sheryl nodded numbly. 

“Fantastic! Crews will be set up at the hospital exit whenever you’re ready, then you’ll go see your family before heading to the island. I’ll see you again on the transport.”

“Ok…”

“You’re gonna be great kiddo. Audiences love stories like yours.” 

Clay Grayson then strode from the room, two attendants appearing seemingly from nowhere and hovering with information and offers to touch-up his make-up. The rest of the crew followed.

Sheryl looked between her friends at the moment of privacy, and burst into tears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate any comments, kudos or shares. 
> 
> Ok, a graveyard visit then we're off so that Sheryl can start training and meet other contestants
> 
> Please subscribe for updates. Learn more about _The Tower_ on my website at [phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/](http://www.phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/)
> 
> I'm hanging out a lot on tumblr these days at [phoenixwaller.tumblr.com](http://phoenixwaller.tumblr.com). I'm also on plurk and twitter at @phoenixwaller, and my author page on facebook is @JenniferLWaller


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheryl had one last thing to do before leaving for Dreams Island, but it'll be one of the most difficult moments of her life as she faces saying farewell to her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst ahead. I mean... I think it was expected considering, but... yeah. 
> 
> If you've been enjoying this work please click the share button up above or reblog my posts on tumblr and spread the love. Since it's an original work it needs word of mouth to grow. 
> 
> Happy Reading!

Sheryl blinked and held up her arm to block the blinding sunlight. There was a brief exchange behind her as the hospital orderly handed off control of her wheelchair to staff from Dreams Island. 

Liam crouched beside the chair, and plucked a pair of sunglasses from his pocket. He handed them to her, and she took them with a smile. 

She put them on, but her hand stalled when she realized that they were women’s sunglasses. 

“Li?”

Liam smiled and spoke softly. “I asked one of the ladies from wardrobe for you since I knew it was a bright day. They were on one of the accessory racks that you didn’t pay much attention to.”

“Thank you,” she whispered when she saw the tiny orange dot on the inside of the frame that indicated it was a sponsored item. 

Liam nodded and stood again.

Sheryl grabbed his hand as they waited for the wheelchair lift to lower on the van. 

“Sher?”

She just squeezed, and was glad that the sunglasses hid the tears forming in her eyes. 

Liam leaned over and hugged her. “I’m here, so are Chad, Janice and Becky. You lean on us as much as you need.”

“This is really happening, isn’t it. They’re really gone… They’re not going to pop out from a bush and say it was a cruel joke… are they?”

Liam took a sharp breath. “Oh Sher…” He turned into her and squeezed her tight. 

“Please Li!” she cried, clinging to him. “Please, I won’t even be mad at them if this was a joke. I just want them to be ok.”

Sheryl was vaguely aware of Chad, Becky and Janice closing in around her, blocking her from the cameras. Liam knelt in front of her. 

“Sher, I’m sorry. It’s not a joke. You’re going to go say goodbye.”

Sheryl broke down. “I can’t lose them Liam, I just can’t. I can lose the house, the job. But they’re my family. How can they be dead? Parents aren’t supposed to outlive their children. Jonathan and I were supposed to grow old and gray together.”

Tears streamed down her face. The sound of a drone came from above, but she’d gladly cry on camera if it meant her family was alive. 

“Sher…” Becky begged, draping herself over Sheryl. “Don’t cry. Please.”

“No,” Chad said softly. “She needs this, and she needs it now. She has to start grieving properly.”

“But…” Becky protested, but something made her cut off. 

Becky’s arms tightened around Sheryl’s shoulders. “I’m here Sher.”

Liam held Sheryl’s hands and ran his thumbs over her knuckles. “Listen Sher. I want you to refuse. This is too much. Everything else be damned, we’ll work it out. You can’t go to the island, and definitely not right now. You’ve been denying everything that’s happened because there was no proof from inside a hospital room. But things are about to get very real, and I’m worried for you.”

“Jonathan… Sasha… Benny… my babies, oh Liam, my babies are gone.”

Sheryl slumped forward and Liam caught her. He held her and allowed her to sob against his shoulder. 

“The van is ready whenever you are,” the director said from somewhere to the front and right of Sheryl. 

She felt more than saw Chad step away to talk to the director, but, despite him trying to keep his voice down, the wind carried the conversation back to her anyway. 

“Look at her,” Chad said. “She can’t go like this. She can’t walk, and it’s only been a couple days since she learned that her life was turned upside-down. She needs time. She needs physical therapy and she needs counseling to help her through the grieving process.”

“All her needs will be provided for her on the island,” the director replied in a bored tone. 

“Cut the crap,” Chad snarled. “I know somebody on the production staff gets off on the sob story, but it’s cruel. Give her time to get better.”

“Look buddy, I’m just doing my job. Besides, it’s her decision and she didn’t refuse. Now listen, she goes today, or she doesn’t go at all.”

“It’s wrong and you know it!” Chad yelled. 

Sheryl flinched, not used to hearing the normally mild man get upset. 

“Chad…” she said softly. 

Somehow he heard her and walked back over. “Sorry Sher.”

“Thank you. But I’ve made up my mind. I’m going.”

“Please Sher,” Liam begged again. “Chad’s right. There’s no guarantee that you’ll get what you need on the island. You need counseling through this. I know you, so does Chad. You were so close to Jonathan and the kids. You’ve barely begun to grieve, and it’ll likely get worse before it gets better. We can’t be at your beck and call out there, not in the way you’ll need. And we don’t even know what sort of communication restrictions you’ll face.”

Sheryl chewed on her lower lip. “I…”

“Is everything ok?” an accented voice asked. 

Sheryl looked up to see her new doctor, Dr. Lucero, standing a few feet away. 

“Doctor…” Liam breathed. “Maybe you have some sway. You have to convince them that she needs time.”

The doctor frowned. “Unfortunately I’m not authorized to grant any special considerations like that. I assure you though, she’ll be fully recovered before her run. I won’t sign a medical release for her until I’m sure that she’s physically capable.”

“But what about her emotional state?” Liam begged. “She’s been dissociating for days. It’s just now starting to become real. She’ll need counseling as much as she needs physical therapy.”

The doctor made a noise then walked over and knelt in front of Sheryl. “Will you take your sunglasses off for me Mrs. Callaghan?”

Sheryl sniffed, then removed the eyewear. The glare of the sun was even harsher after crying. 

Dr. Lucero looked into her eyes. “Mrs. Callaghan, do you want to be a contestant?”

Sheryl stayed still, fingers gripping the armrests of the wheelchair. 

The doctor sighed. “I see. I’ll try another way. Are you going to refuse your invitation to be a contestant?”

Sheryl was silent for several seconds before shaking her head. “No… I’ll be a contestant.”

“Sher… no…” Chad sighed. 

Sheryl looked down toward the concrete. 

The doctor turned to Liam. “Let’s talk in the van. I’d like to get your concerns to present to counselors on the island.”

Sheryl looked up in time to see Liam make a face, about to argue. 

“Look,” Dr. Lucero whispered harshly. “I hear what you’re saying, but my hands are tied. However, there is an argument to be made depending on the severity of dissociation. I’m not a psychologist, and to my untrained eye she seems sound enough that I can’t argue impaired judgement. But as the doctor overseeing her care I can get her into counseling, and I can have a professional on the island evaluate her mental health. As her friend, I trust you if you say she’s dissociating.”

Silence. 

“I’m her advocate, every contestant gets one. Most advocates are trainers, but since she’s arriving in a state of medical need I’m hers. She can’t compete without my signoff. It’s my job to make sure she’s healthy enough, and that includes her mental state. Work with me, not against me.”

Liam sighed and nodded. “I’ll talk with you privately.”

Janice moved in front of Sheryl and blocked her view. “Don’t do this Sheryl. Stay. Not for us, but for Jonathan and the kids. They would want you to live a long and happy life, not risk it all on that death game.”

Sheryl started crying again. “I know that, but what life is there when I’d be lucky to ever pay down the debt from this? When I do find a job half my wages would be automatically garnished. Just staying out of a shelter will keep me working to the point of exhaustion. What kind of life is that?”

“You’d be  _ alive. _ ”

“I don’t plan to die though!” Sheryl clenched her fists. “Please… I need you all. I know you don’t like this, but please…”

Tears streamed down her face and she squeezed her eyes shut. 

Arms wrapped around her, and she recognized the subtle scent of Janice’s perfume. 

Sheryl wrapped her arms around Janice’s middle, and felt Becky nuzzle into the back of her neck. A moment later she was flanked by Liam and Chad, who joined in the group hug. 

“If we can’t convince you to stay, then let’s go say goodbye,” Janice said, running her fingers through Sheryl’s hair. 

Sheryl wiped her tears away and nodded.

* * *

 

The van’s lift lowered. Liam stood behind Sheryl’s wheelchair and steadied it as it descended. 

The cemetery was an oasis amongst chaos. Tall buildings ringed the former park, a sun damaged playground crumbled on the far end, waiting to be removed to make room for more graves. A tall fence kept out transients and dealers, which was reinforced by security roaming the grounds. 

Sheryl remembered the controversy when the park had been acquired several years prior. The city had been unable to keep up with maintenance and security costs. The sale had garnered protests as it was one of only a handful of public parks left in a city of twenty million.   

In the end it hadn’t mattered. The city needed the revenue, and the sale to a memorial services company was the compromise rather than the addition of another high-rise filled with pods. 

Liam pushed Sheryl along the path, Becky, Janice and Chad following close behind. She would have found it peaceful if not for the reason they were there, and as fresh tears pricked her eyes she understood why the makeup crew had used waterproof makeups. 

“How long are the plots?” Sheryl asked quietly. 

“Fifty years,” Liam replied, “with an option to extend to your passing if you wish.”

Sheryl couldn’t hold back the tears, extension options were an added fee on top of the already expensive plots. 

Liam paused in pushing her chair to pass her his handkerchief again. “Take as much time as you need Sher. Those vultures can wait for you to be ready.”

Sheryl chuckled dryly. “They’re probably already filming.”

“Probably, but they can still wait.”

Sheryl dabbed the cloth at her eyes until most of the wetness was whisked away, then clenched the square of cloth as she returned her hands to her lap. 

Liam started pushing the chair again, but Becky ran in front of it and stopped them again. The blonde made a face, then pulled a comb from her purse and quickly ran it through the hair framing Sheryl’s face. 

“Your hair was matted from crying,” she explained as she put the comb away again. 

“Thank you,” Sheryl whispered. 

Becky smiled and patted her shoulder before moving behind the wheelchair again. 

A few minutes later they reached the gravesite. Rich green grass covered the vertically buried coffins. A triple-pane headstone marked the graves, the large one in the middle for Jonathan, and smaller wings for the children. An angel perched on the top, arms spread and looking toward the heavens. 

Sheryl’s breath caught in her throat. She reached out to touch the cool stone, and a dry sob escaped. 

The noise caught her off guard, and the walls she’d built shattered. Hiccuping sobs built one upon another, trying to all come out at once, and tears streamed down her face. 

“No… no no no. Please god no.” She wailed, unable to contain her anguish. 

Sheryl nearly fell out of the chair as she tried to touch more of the headstone. 

Liam and Chad swooped in, and gently lifted her from the chair. They set her down on the grass, and she scrambled to lean against the headstone. 

“Please, you can’t be gone, you just can’t.” She traced the carved names with her fingertips. “Jonathan… Sasha... Benny… Why?”

Sheryl curled in on herself, burying her face into the cool grass and slamming her fists on the ground. “It’s not fair.... You did nothing wrong! I was the one who made the call,” she mumbled into the earth. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. You’re dead because of me.” 

She ran her fingers over the grass and turned her head, laying her cheek against the ground. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to attend your memorials. I only woke up two-and-a-half days ago.

“Jonathan, I miss you so much. Every time I heard footsteps in the hall at the hospital I looked up, hoping it was you. I couldn’t believe that you’d gone. We had so much to look forward to, and I wanted to experience it all. I lived more than twenty years before I met you, but I look back and I know I didn’t really start living until you came into my life. You were my soulmate, and right now I feel that half my heart is missing.

“Sasha, my star, you always gave all of yourself. You were so smart and so strong. You could have changed the world… I know that. Liam said that all the other kids from your dojo gave you presents.” Sheryl sobbed again. “He said that there were so many stuffed toys on top of your casket that they kept falling off. Everybody loved you baby girl. Everybody. The world is a darker place without you in it.”

Sheryl sniffed and wiped her tears. She ran her fingers through the blades of grass. “Mommy misses you Baby Benny. You were my little monkey. We were all so excited for your birthday. We were going to take you to get your implants turned on for the first time, and get you officially registered in the communication system. I’d already picked out the games you’d have been able to access, all of them had monkeys. Daddy and I knew you’d be just as smart as Sasha, and we couldn’t wait to see what direction life took you.”

Sheryl wanted to say more, but her heart ached. She cried into the grass for several long minutes. 

“I’m sorry…” she whispered. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to visit again. I’d be here every day if it was up to me, but…”

She shuddered and whimpered. 

“Jonathan, I’m scared. I received the card. If you and the kids were still alive I would have refused without a second thought. But right now, I don’t have a choice. The bank took the house, my job is gone. I’ve been in the hospital ever since that night, and I’ve seen the fees and payments so far in the patient portal. Jonathan… there’s no way I could pay it back. My inheritance was seized for it, the pittance left from life insurance after the funerals is long gone. The lifetime cap on insurance was reached three months ago.

“Jonathan, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I have to do this. It’s the only way that I can possibly escape that debt. Liam, Chad… Becky… Janice… they’ve all tried to get me to refuse. You’d be proud of them for trying. They really are the best friends we could ever ask for. I’m so scared, but I refuse to die. I’ll come see you again as a survivor.”

Sheryl fell silent and ran her hands over the grass. She heard music, then realized that she’d started singing Benny’s favorite lullaby. She started crying again. 

Knees on the grass in front of her, then Liam sat down. “Have you told him?”

Sheryl nodded without lifting her head. 

“I promise I’ll help bring her home Jonathan,” Liam said to the grass. “She’s asked Janice, Becky and I to be her support team. We’ll bring her home to you and the kids. We’ll make sure that she lives a life rich enough for all of you.”

Sheryl choked back another sob. 

Liam scooted over and pulled Sheryl’s head into his lap. She stared at his knee as tears streamed down her face. He petted her hair as she cried. 

“It’s not fair Li, it’s just not fair. Why did they have to die?”

“I know Sher.”

“I’m getting your pants all wet.”

“You cry as much as you need.”

“You’re too good to me.”

“No more than you deserve.”

“Will you visit them for me while I’m on the island?”

“Of course. We’ll even bring flowers if you tell me what everybody liked.”

“Sasha loved pink tiger lilies, Benny’s favorites were baby blue carnations mixed with baby’s breath.”

“What about Jonathan?”

“He loved succulents, especially arrangements of them. He didn’t have a favorite one though.”

“I’ll make sure that they always have fresh flowers.”

“Thank you.”

Sheryl turned her attention back to her husband and children. “Jonathan, I always liked telling you everything. But now… My mind is blank. All I can think of, over and over, is how much I miss you and the kids. I’m so scared, but I have to do this, and it tears me up that even when I come back, that you’ll still be gone. Sasha… Benny… Mommy will come home, I promise.”

Sheryl started humming the lullaby again, running her hand through the grass. Tears fell, glittering as they caught on the blades, or before they soaked into the leg of Liam’s pants. 

Eventually the sun started to dip in the sky. 

“I don’t want to leave them Li…” Sheryl said, almost asleep in her friend’s lap. 

“You can still refuse.”

Sheryl shook her head. “No. If I refuse now I won’t ever leave this spot.”

“Going to the island is a way of running from the pain.”

“I know…”

“Chad and I will clear our schedules for a week when you get back, longer if you need. We’ll help you through this, and whatever trauma comes from the show, together. But promise me something?”

“Hmm?”

“Grieve for your family. Don’t hold it in. You’re strong Sheryl, stubbornly so, but this will fester like a gaping wound. It’s more than simply crying or coming to terms with it. It’s moving to the other side and seeing a life beyond the loss. Don’t let them stop you from mourning their deaths.”

Sheryl nodded. “Ok.”

Liam patted the ground next to him. “We’ll bring her back Jonathan. I promise.”

Liam helped Sheryl sit up, then he and Chad helped her back into the wheelchair. They returned to the van while the sun was setting. 

* * *

 

The thrusters on the transport created a strong wind on the tarmac as Sheryl bade farewell to her friends. Each hugged her and promised to chat as much as schedules and communication restrictions allowed. 

They all tried one final time to convince her to refuse. 

Sheryl waved from the small window as the craft took off vertically. Tears streamed down her face as they grew smaller and were eventually just dots on the landscape. 

“We have two stops before we proceed to the island,” one of the flight crew informed her. “The director will likely want a few videos of you once we’re closer, but you should rest in the meantime.”

Sheryl nodded and accepted an offered blanket. She was quickly asleep, lulled by the thrum of the powerful engines. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate any comments, kudos or shares. 
> 
> And we're off to Dreams Island. Next time we'll meet a couple other contestants and start settling into the lifestyle of a contestant. 
> 
> Please subscribe for updates. Learn more about _The Tower_ on my website at [phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/](http://www.phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/)
> 
> I'm hanging out a lot on tumblr these days at [phoenixwaller.tumblr.com](http://phoenixwaller.tumblr.com). I'm also on plurk and twitter at @phoenixwaller, and my author page on facebook is @JenniferLWaller
> 
> Find my YoI fanfics on my AO3 profile at <http://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixwaller/profile>


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheryl meets a couple of her fellow contestants while en route to Dreams Island.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're off!
> 
> If you've been enjoying this work please click the share button up above and spread the love. 
> 
> Happy Reading!

Sheryl awoke as the transport shuddered and touched down. Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows. She knew that meant they’d traveled west since the sun had already set when they left, but didn’t know how far. 

“Where are we?” she asked as one of the flight attendants walked by. 

“California,” the woman replied politely. “We’ll be here for an hour or so for filming of another contestant pickup, then we’ll head down the coast to pick up one more before heading to the island.”

Sheryl nodded, then her stomach growled. “Is there anything to eat?”

“Of course, what would you like?”

Sheryl blinked several times. “Ummm something light but filling.”

The flight attendant nodded. “I’ll bring a chicken dish. It’ll be about fifteen minutes.”

“Ok.”

Sheryl looked out the window as crews set up on the tarmac. Clay Grayson reclined under a large umbrella as a couple ladies touched up his makeup. He’d changed from the dark blue silk suit he’d worn in the hospital to a plum one. 

The food was delivered and she watched as a limo pulled up. A woman who appeared to be in her early twenties got out, a large smile on her face. Clay Grayson strolled forward, arms open to greet her. 

She made excited motions with her hands, and Sheryl knew that hers was much more the type of first interview that the host preferred. There seemed to be an easy banter from the vantage of the window, and after a few minutes both walked toward the transport. 

There was a flurry of activity as crews readied to leave again, and Sheryl watched as workers ran back and forth tearing down the lighting and other odds and ends. 

“Hi! Can I sit here?”

Sheryl looked up to see the contestant who’d just chatted with Clay on the tarmac. She nodded. 

“Thanks!” 

Sheryl looked at the other woman. She had an athletic build and dark blonde hair. Her green eyes sparkled with excitement, but spoke of intelligence. Something seemed familiar about her, but Sheryl couldn’t quite remember.

The blonde stuck out her hand. “Vivienne Dubois.”

“Sheryl Callaghan.” Sheryl took the proffered hand, even as Vivienne’s name seemed familiar. After a few seconds she finally remembered a news report from several days before the concert. “Wait… Vivienne Dubois, founder of a Tower training and simulation run gym?”

Vivienne nodded happily. “Co-founder actually: Elevate Training and Towers. We’re currently the most successful tower-based gym in North America, and just expanded to Europe.”

“Wow… so what are you doing here? If you’re that successful you probably don’t need the money.”

Vivienne laughed, a chiming sound that made Sheryl smile. “Cause I’ve always wanted to be a contestant! This is a dream come true.”

“Really?”

The blonde nodded exuberantly. “I think it would be obvious. I mean who else would open a gym specializing in simulated runs?”

“To be fair, a new one opens every other week.”

“How many are successful?”

Sheryl laughed. “Ok, you got me there.”

Vivienne studied Sheryl a minute, grinned and leaned in. “You want to know what the secret is?”

“You’d just share corporate secrets with somebody you just met?”

Vivienne shrugged. “Considering the research involved, even if you stepped off this transport right now with the intention of opening your own, it would take at least two years. Meanwhile Elevate is flourishing. Besides… I consider myself a quick judge of character, and I think you’re ok. So you wanna know?”

“Uh… sure.”

Vivienne laughed. 

The transport shuddered as it took off again. 

“People want to feel good about their simulated runs. Almost all the new gyms only look at the past few seasons. We’re the only one based exclusively on training and runs from over thirty years ago.”

Sheryl blinked. “Why thirty years?”

Vivienne laughed again. “How much of  _ The Tower _ ’s history do you know?”

Sheryl thought about it for a few seconds. “Pretty much what’s taught in schools. The show started in twenty-fifty, Dreams Island was purchased and expanded into a staging ground for the fiftieth anniversary. It’s been controversial, but has been immensely popular since the beginning.”

Vivienne put a finger to her lips. “I always forget how little of the show’s history is taught,” she said, seemingly to herself. She then looked at Sheryl again, “Sorry, I dual majored for my Bachelor’s degrees. Exercise Science was the big one, so I could open the gym, but since I knew I wanted it to be based on  _ The Tower _ I also took a history major so that I could do an intensive on the show.”

“Wow,” Sheryl said. “You seem pretty young still. So when did you graduate?”

Vivienne paused. “Oh… well I’m twenty-four now. I got my bachelor’s degrees at sixteen, my master’s at eighteen, and used data from the first year of Elevate as the backbone of my thesis for my doctorate at nineteen. I’d been considering going back for another degree, but then I got the card.”

“What would you have studied?”

“Probably  _ The Tower. _ ” Vivienne shrugged. “It’s fascinating. Oh…” she brightened. “That’s right, we were discussing why Elevate uses training and runs based on the show from over thirty years ago.” 

Sheryl nodded. 

“So it made news at the time, but’s been relatively forgotten since. About forty years ago  _ The Tower _ ran into financial difficulty. Before moving to the island they were always able to just buy buildings about to be demolished for staging, but there were no high-rise buildings on the island. They have to build each one. Building and destroying so many buildings every year is insanely expensive.”

“I can see that.”

Vivienne nodded. “The production company went through several high-level shakeups. Four CEOs in ten years, even a near complete replacement of the board as investors lost faith. The show was on the verge of collapse.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Of course they tried to keep it as quiet as possible, but it was big news in financial circles. Anyway, they finally landed on the current CEO and his team. Erik Wilkerson was young at the time, barely thirty, and everybody in the business world thought he’d be out as fast as his predecessors. But he had ideas, and they worked. Within two years he’d turned the show profitable again.”

“How’d he do it?”

Vivienne leaned in, excited. “That’s the question! It’s another one of those secrets, but there are before and after trends that hold some clues. One of the most obvious is the difficulty. Before he took over, around seventy percent of contestants escaped, after it dropped to forty percent. It made the show more exciting. Scenarios became more complex, and the training level increased accordingly. Of course they still look at long term survival ratios, so can claim around fifty percent survival, but that’s only if you go back to the beginning. It’s steadily creeping down.”

“Wow…”

Vivienne nodded again, missing Sheryl’s disheartened tone. “I’ll tell you all about it. It’s fascinating. Anyway, I realized that people want to feel  _ good _ about their Tower runs, and almost all of the gyms base their training and simulations around runs from after the big staff shakeup. It’s the wrong approach. People want to feel like they would survive, and that’s almost impossible without the intense training for current scenarios. 

“So we took some of the best elements from classic and current training methods, and combined it with classic run scenarios. More customers ‘escape.’ They feel good about themselves and come back to do it again, because there’s a thrill to it. We did start implementing difficulty levels last year for those who wanted more, but the majority of Elevate clients are happy with the classic model.”

“It doesn’t get boring?”

“That’s one of the great things. Even ignoring some of the scenarios from the past thirty years, we have almost a hundred years of history before that to draw from. We have the favorites of course, but the designers have always been nothing if not inventive. We can always find some obscure challenge that was used only once or twice, but feels fresh to our customers. We change out scenarios regularly too.

“You should come by sometime after you escape. I can give you the tour, and I’m sure you’ll see just how much thought went into it.”

Sheryl smiled. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

Clear blue water extended to the horizon outside of the transport window as the sun set. 

“So what’s your story?”

Sheryl blinked several times. “Huh?”

“Well I’ve wanted to be a contestant since I was a child, but you don’t seem all that excited.”

Sheryl looked out the window and sighed. “I really didn’t have much of a choice…”

Vivienne’s face dropped. “Oh… want to talk about it?”

Sheryl almost refused, then realized that her story was about to be public anyway. “I… well…” Sheryl paused and took a deep breath. “I’m probably the season’s sob story.”

Vivienne winced. 

“Six months ago I had a loving husband, two beautiful children, a job I’d worked hard for, even a little house. We weren’t rich, but we were comfortable. Now I have nothing.”

“What happened?”

“My family was killed. I was in a coma for almost six months. Of course I lost my job, and the bank seized the house. I’ve only been awake three days.”

“Oh…” Vivienne made a face and turned to look out the window. 

“Can I be honest?” Vivienne asked after several quiet minutes. 

“Ok…”

“I hate contestant stories like yours.”

Sheryl blinked several times. “I… um…”

Vivienne trained her emerald green eyes on Sheryl. “It’s nothing against you personally, nor anybody in your situation. But… it’s a perverse kind of exploitation. You’ve already told me everything I need to know. You have a tragic backstory, and woke up to insane medical bills with no place to live and no way to pay them off. You were left with the impossible choice of trying to survive under a mountain of debt, or risking your life on the show.”

Sheryl blinked several times before nodding. 

Vivienne grimaced. “It’s a cruel enough world that stories like yours even exist. But it’s so much worse when companies decide to profit off them. It’s extortion in a way, they dangle the carrot of freedom from that life, but in exchange you have to play their game.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe it works for some people, they see stories like yours and think that if you were selected they might be too. It’s a glimmer of hope… but the reality is far different.”

Sheryl nodded. 

“Sorry…”

Sheryl shook her head. “No, it’s ok.”

Silence fell between them for several minutes. 

“Wanna explore the transport?” Vivienne asked. “We’re not restricted to passenger seating you know. I hear there’s a full bar upstairs. We just can’t go to areas marked for production staff.”

“Thank you, but it’s a bit hard for me to get around without a wheelchair right now.”

Vivienne grinned. “That’s no problem. I run a gym, remember? I’m stronger than I look. I can easily carry you.”

“Are you sure?”

Vivienne waved off the concern. “Of course.”

“As long as it’s not a problem.”

Vivienne grinned. She turned and crouched in front of Sheryl. 

Sheryl looped her arms around Vivienne’s shoulders and the younger woman grabbed Sheryl’s calves then stood. 

“And we’re off!” Vivienne exclaimed as she stood. “Where to?”

“You’re driving so you choose.”

“I think we deserve drinks then! To the bar!”

Sheryl laughed, something that felt good after so much sadness. 

“You’re not on any medications that we need to worry about, are you?” Vivienne asked as she took the stairs to the upper level. 

“No, just nanomachine therapy. Apparently I had a lot of internal injuries.”

“And you were out for six months?”

“Yeah.”

“Amazing you survived without major brain damage then. I’m not a medical doctor, but I keep track of a lot of the latest research, and most people on nanomachine therapy, even in a coma, are usually fully healed within a month.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, there’ve been a lot of advancements in the past decade. Nanomachines can do a lot and in a much shorter time.”

“Apparently they still can’t keep muscles stimulated enough to keep them from atrophying.”

“No…” Vivienne lowered her voice. “And just between us, don’t let them try to talk you into them either. The island is one of the approved testing locations for a new muscle stimulating nano.”

“My therapist in the hospital said the same thing.”

Vivienne paused on a landing and looked around for a moment. “Don’t get me wrong, they get results, but there are indications that it’s a short term boost that does more harm than good. Do the work yourself if you want longevity.”

“How do they do harm?”

“They’re indiscriminate. They stimulate everything. They have to supplement with an anti-nano to protect your heart and organs, and because you’re not using the muscles as you would naturally move they aren’t developed in ways that are proper to you.”

“Wow…”

“I had a client I had to work with personally after she managed to bribe herself into a trial. She was a mess. There was nothing wrong with her before except that she was getting older and losing strength. After… she had a hard time controlling herself because she was strong in places that she wasn’t used to. Then… she rebounded. The muscles got used to the intense stimulation and when the nano therapy stopped she had to work twice as hard just to be as strong as she’d been before.”

“You said you had to work personally with her. Did you get her turned around?”

“Eventually we started to get her back to equilibrium, but I had to turn her over to another of my top people when I got the card.”

Vivienne resumed climbing the stairs. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sheryl said. 

They arrived at a lavish upper level, and Vivienne set Sheryl down in one of the plush seats. 

“What do you want?” the younger woman asked. 

“Something girly.”

Vivienne grinned. “Perfect. I’ll be right back with drinks.”

A few minutes later they were sipping something fruity and sweet while the last rays of sunshine glittered on the ocean below. 

“I wonder where the third person is…” Sheryl mused as cabin lights turned on and the sky turned dark blue outside. 

“I heard the next stop was in Chile,” Vivienne supplied. “Apparently he’s an athlete that was training.”

“Oh.”

“We’ll probably be there in an hour and a half or so.”

Sheryl nodded and turned her attention outside again. 

“So you mentioned you’d recently expanded to Europe?” Sheryl said after a while, turning back to face her fellow contestant.

Vivienne smiled. “Technically only France so far, but I expect it’ll grow fast.”

“Why France?”

“My parents wanted to go home. They only fled because of the civil unrest. I was born in the US, but they always wanted to go back. Since things have settled down the past few years, and I was doing so good with Elevate, they decided it was time.”

“So you exported your business with them?”

Vivienne laughed. “I guess you could look at it that way. They were excited to introduce my company to their country though.”

Sheryl chatted easily with Vivienne, and they lost track of time until the transport landed in Santiago. 

They both looked out and watched the crew set up to film another contestant. 

“This is a lot more prep than you had,” Sheryl said after a moment. 

“How much prep did you get?”

Sheryl sighed. “I got a ‘Hi, we’re here,” in my hospital room. Then Grayson walked in for the interview.”

“Wow! Impressive!”

“Huh?”

“You’re definitely planned as a draw. Usually contestants get the limo and a tarmac meeting. If he came to you then you’re expected to excite an audience.”

For a moment Sheryl wanted to ask how Vivienne knew that, but then remembered that she was talking to somebody who had studied the show in an academic setting. “I’m not that special…” she finally argued. “I mean you’re a founder of a company dedicated to catering to people’s desires to be contestants. You’re much more impressive.”

“Did you do anything noteworthy?”

“I called in a potential dissident attack… the night… of…”

Vivienne leaned back in her chair. “That’s probably it. Hero who clung to life only to wind up with nothing gets a chance at a tower run. It’s the kind of story the producers love. They’ll definitely play you up.”

Sheryl sighed and looked out the window again. “What  _ are _ they doing?”

Vivienne looked out. “Fireworks?” She rolled her eyes. “I have the feeling this is one of those celebrity contestants.” She took another moment to stare. “And Clay is wearing gray… definitely a celebrity… or at least somebody who thinks they’re important.”

“You… really study the show, don’t you?”

Vivienne laughed again. “Like I said, I’d have probably focused on it for another degree if I hadn’t gotten the card. This is all just the topical stuff though, things anybody can pick up if they pay enough attention. I really wanted to dig in. There are so many secrets, but I’m sure there are ways to figure out what’s going on behind the scenes.”

Sheryl grinned. “Ok, you’ve heard my story, but my segment hasn’t aired. What color did he wear for me?”

“Blue,” Vivienne said without missing a beat. “Probably a dark shade too. He wears light blue for people with sick kids in the family, and dark for loss. Though he might have lightened it considering the circumstances. It’s a calming color, so it makes him appear empathetic.”

“I have the feeling I’m never going to look at anything about the show the same way again after talking to you.”

Vivienne smiled. “At least you got a standard color suit. I have no idea what to make of that purplish plum thing he wore for me. He rarely wears anything in the red spectrum. I’ll have to refresh my color theory later, there’s almost always a reason for his choices. It’s probably got an emotional hook somewhere.”

A limo pulled up outside. 

“Oh here we go,” Vivienne practically vibrated as she pressed her face to the window.

Sheryl laughed and turned her own attention to the tarmac. 

The fireworks sent cones of sparks into the air as a door opened and a tall man emerged from the limo. 

“No…” Vivienne murmured. “They didn’t.”

Sheryl looked but didn’t recognize him. “Didn’t what?”

Vivienne had an intense look of concentration on her face as the man approached Clay and the men shook hands. More people were climbing out of the limo as the men spoke. 

“Holy shit…” Vivienne muttered. “They actually took that idiot up on his offer.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, that’s right… you would have missed it. The man down there is Anthony Greene, pretty much an unknown athlete before he set a new world record in biathlon a couple months ago. After he won a major competition he bragged that he’d instructed his trainers to drill him harder than any contestant.”

Vivienne shook her head. “He said that he was more than prepared for a tower run, and even went so far as to proclaim that no more training for him was necessary. He’d be ready to go with only the simulations to prep the team. In a press conference he said that staff could call on him at a moment’s notice for a run.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“If it were just the physical aspects… maybe. But people die just as often from the psychological games.”

“You think they’d really send somebody out with no training?”

Vivienne let out a long breath. “I’d hope not, but he’s not let up. His fans even set up chats in virtual cafes to discuss whether it could be done or not. After last week’s training injury, this might have seemed the time to put the matter to rest. Still… if they’re doing what I think they’re doing, it’s a risky move for the season finale.”

An employee passed by and Vivienne reached out to catch his sleeve. “Do we have access to the global net, or are communication restrictions already in effect?”

“You should have limited access. Search and incoming is allowed. No outgoing communications until after processing and orientation on the island.”

“Thank you.”

Vivienne turned her attention to the tarmac again as her eyes developed the glassy tone of somebody searching for data. “Seventy-five percent…”

“Hmm?”

“His odds as calculated by bookies. Normally they only do them for confirmed contestants, but since he’s made so much noise… He’s currently looking at a seventy-five percent chance of survival.”

“Is that good? I’ve never bet on runs.”

“Higher than average for sure. Most people fall in the forty to sixty percent range.” She shook her head. “I still don’t like it. The training exists for a reason.”

“Who are the other people?”

Vivienne looked out again. “I think his coach… fiance… and possibly a parent?” She shook her head. “They’re doing it. That seems a classic support team setup, and they only bring support in for the last week.”

The group entered the transport and both women turned away from the windows as the crews prepared to leave. 

Vivienne shook her head. “I can’t believe they did it. Nobody would have cared if they just reorganized the schedule, it wouldn’t have been the first time a training injury led to a shuffle.”

Boisterous laughter filtered up the stairs, then the newest contestant and his support team entered the bar. They immediately headed for a set of four plush chairs surrounding a low table, but Greene quickly stood to place an order at the bar. 

“Should we head back down and get some sleep before getting to the island?” Vivienne offered, clearly displeased with the new arrivals. 

“That sounds nice,” Sheryl agreed, picking up her glass to drain the remainder of the drink. 

Both women were setting their glasses down again when Greene’s attention fell on them. He sauntered over, media smile plastered to his face. 

Sheryl had to force herself to not scrunch her nose in disgust. Everything about the man was purposefully loud. Neon green tips turned every which way in his short and curly black hair. Sunglasses were perched on his forehead and some sort of dark eye makeup clashed with his pale skin. He wore an oversized, asymmetric, wife-beater with a huge star graphic under a bright green jacket. His shredded jeans seemed the tamest part of his ensemble.  

Sheryl saw that Vivienne was equally disgusted, if not more. Even Greene’s body language seemed to anger the blonde as he stopped by them, an air of haughty contempt in his pose. 

Sheryl couldn’t say she blamed her. 

“Are you the other contestants they were picking up today?”

Vivienne glared and Sheryl nodded. 

“I feel so sorry for you ladies, your arrival on the island will be overshadowed by my own.” He leaned in slightly. “Or maybe that’s a good thing.”

Vivienne rolled her eyes. “They film reactions and leaving the transport at different times you know. Unless one of us says something, nobody in the audience will know we all came in on the same transport.”

Greene seemed to deflate a bit, but quickly rebounded. “Just remember ladies, you’re looking at history in the making. I’m going to be the first contestant to escape without any show-sponsored training.”

“And you’re an idiot for trying. I can’t believe somebody signed off on that.” She turned to Sheryl. “Ready?”

Sheryl nodded, eager to get away from their fellow contestant. 

The transport lifted off and started toward the ocean.

Vivienne knelt in front of Sheryl’s chair again. 

“What’s this?” Greene roared with laughter. “Are you practicing weightlifting with her?”

Vivienne put her hand up to pause Sheryl before she stood. She strode to the taller man and glared at up him. “She can’t walk you jackass! She just woke up from a coma and is in physical therapy to rebuild her muscles.”

Greene studied Sheryl for a minute. “Why waste a tower on her? I bet she doesn’t make it any lower than fifteen.”

Vivienne slapped Greene across the face. “Wake up you son of a bitch! This isn’t talk any more! However foolish, the producers took you up on your offer. You’re talking about people’s lives now, and everybody has a chance of survival. She wouldn’t be the first contestant who needed physical therapy, and sometimes they’re the strongest ones.”

Vivienne knelt in front of Sheryl again. “Come on Sheryl, let’s go.”

Sheryl nodded and wrapped her limbs around Vivienne’s torso again. They left before Greene had a chance to respond. 

“Do you know each other?” Sheryl asked quietly once they were on the stairs.

“One of the major news networks had Greene and I on the same roundtable when he started in with his claims that he could escape without training.”

“Really?”

“I’d become somewhat an outside expert on training matters between Elevate and my deep study of the show. It wasn’t unusual to be called, but that man… He’s so damn arrogant. And outright dismissive of others’ abilities. The producers kept having to cut his mic or go to commercial in order to get him to stop bragging about himself and hogging the air time. 

“I was asked by several other networks to do more panel discussions with him and I refused. Elevate didn’t need me in the press, and I didn’t need the headache of interacting with that jerk.”

“Wow…”

They reached the seating section again and Vivienne lowered Sheryl back into the seat from before.

“Better sleep while you have the chance,” the blonde said as she took her own seat and reclined it. “We just left Santiago, and the island is supposedly somewhere east of New Zealand. We’ll probably be there in three or four hours.”

Sheryl nodded and pulled a blanket over herself. 

“Vivienne?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you… for standing up for me.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for being the type of person it’s easy to stand up for.”

Sheryl sputtered and Vivienne laughed as the cabin lights dimmed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate any comments, kudos or shares.
> 
> I love Vivienne, she's so excited and is more than willing to gush about all she knows about the show. 
> 
> Please subscribe for updates. Learn more about _The Tower_ on my website at [phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/](http://www.phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/)
> 
> I'm hanging out a lot on tumblr these days at [phoenixwaller.tumblr.com](http://phoenixwaller.tumblr.com). I'm also on plurk and twitter at @phoenixwaller, and my author page on facebook is @JenniferLWaller
> 
> Find my YoI fanfics on my AO3 profile at <http://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixwaller/profile>


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheryl gets her first look at Dreams Island, where she'll train and prepare for her run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and love for this story so far. 
> 
> If you've been enjoying this work please click the share button up above, or reblog my posts about it on Tumblr. Since it's an original work and doesn't draw on an existing fanbase it builds by word of mouth. 
> 
> Happy Reading!

Sheryl awoke with Vivienne gently shaking her shoulder. She blinked at the bright daylight coming through the window. 

Vivienne held out a glass of water as Sheryl moved her seat upright again. 

The cool liquid provided immediate relief as Sheryl turned her attention to the window. “Where are we?”

“An announcement came over the intercom a few minutes ago. We’re about half an hour out. Make-up crews will come around in the next few minutes for any touchups. I’ll need to head to a different area of seating when they’re done so they can film our initial reactions to the island separately.”

Sheryl nodded. “Did they give us a breakdown of what will happen after we land?”

“Not yet.”

There was a knock at the surround, and both women turned to see several ladies from make-up standing there. The director was behind them, looking bored. 

The man spoke while the women worked. 

“We’ll land in about twenty-five minutes. Mr. Greene will depart first so we can get him and his support team into a simulation run immediately after he processes through legal.” He turned to Sheryl. “There was an accident, and the medical team that was due to meet you will be delayed.”

He turned to face both again. “Ms. Dubois, you’ll be second due to the delay of medical staff. Since you’re a known name, and have your own thoughts of training, you will not be met by an assigned physical fitness trainer. Instead you’ll be met by a your combat training team. You’ll be able to meet physical trainers later and choose one who meets your needs.”

Vivienne nodded. “Once filming of my arrival is complete I’d like to wait for Sheryl, we can go through orientation together.”

One of the director’s eyebrows rose. He turned to Sheryl. “Do you want to do orientation at the same time?”

Sheryl smiled. “It would be nice.”

The man shrugged and nodded. “Fine. Legal can handle intake of two at once. You’ll go through orientation together then through legal.”

The make-up crews followed as the director left a moment later. 

“I guess I should go find a new seat,” Vivienne said after a few minutes. “The island should be visible any minute.”

“I’ll see you after I disembark,” Sheryl said softly. 

Vivienne nodded then strolled down the aisle and out of sight. 

Water stretched to the horizon, sparkling in the afternoon sun. The tiny whirr of a drone camera behind Sheryl as the crew prepared to catch as much of her reaction as possible. 

Then, rising in the distance, a jagged cut in the clear blue sky. Sheryl’s breath caught in her throat. The dark cut quickly expanded, spreading across the line where the sea met the sky and piercing the lowest clouds. 

Within two minutes of first seeing the island Sheryl could make out individual towers reaching for the sky, each at a different stage of construction. Cranes stretched to the tops of the buildings, hauling entire sections of the pre-built structures. 

The pilot steered the transport to circle the island. It was a scene Sheryl had seen so many times before during contestant introduction specials, but it was different this time. 

She was here. 

Sheryl’s hands splayed against the glass of the window, eyes darting to take everything in at once. A breathless ‘wow’ escaped her lips. 

The towers were arranged in a circle along the perimeter of the island, rising like a spiral staircase. The tallest tower, seemingly completed, was followed by one only awaiting a few cosmetic touches, then one needing one or two stories added. On the other side were the remains of the latest runs, crews picking through the debris and clearing the site for another build to start. 

Just inside the ring of towers was a ring of smaller buildings, five per tower. Three appeared to be simulation towers, eight stories high. Sheryl decided that the others had to be support buildings for filming and other production aspects.  

Sheryl tapped on the window as she counted twenty-six locations. Each pad was connected by a series of roads that spread like a spiderweb, with the nexus at a complex in the middle of the island. Dormitories, a hospital, training grounds, construction facilities and other buildings she couldn’t immediately place surrounded the gleaming production tower, which loomed over the island at a supposed fifty stories. 

Beyond the core production needs a thriving town expanded further from the center. Houses for staff and crew dotted the landscape as they got closer and Sheryl could see breaks in the thick foliage. 

The transport made one more circle as it approached the landing pad, and Sheryl saw children running down a street, backpacks indicating they’d just left school. Sunbathers reclined on a beach, while others took advantage of the shadow cast by one of the towers. 

Sheryl felt wetness on her cheek, and stared as she wiped away a tear. 

_ It’s beautiful. I wish you could see it Jonathan. You and the kids would love it.  _

The transport hovered, then settled down to the landing pad. The whir of the engines quieted to a hum, then silence. 

Crews waited on the ground, ready to greet the new contestants and whisk them away to get them started. 

Clay walked around on the landing pad, still in gray, talking to the director and a few staff from the island. Somebody said something and he turned on a smile as if it were on a switch. Sheryl could see the white of his teeth from the window. He walked back toward the transport, then accompanied Anthony Greene back out again, chatting amiably. The host made a few grand gestures, then escorted the contestant and his support team to a waiting cart. 

Greene struck what looked like some sort of signature pose then climbed onto the cart. 

Grayson loosened his tie as he turned back to the transport. Crews scurried behind him to restage the scene. 

A group of people, some in military fatigues and uniforms, others in the casual gear of one who doesn’t care because they know they can kill at a glance arrived and mingled as they waited. A couple started a mock hand-to-hand challenge as others circled and cheered for their favorite. 

The director strode out and broke up the fight, much to the annoyance of the two combatants, a woman who appeared about Sheryl’s own age, and a man several years younger. 

The director moved out of sight again, then the group snapped to attention. 

Clay Grayson wore the plum suit again, his fingers on Vivienne’s elbow as he led her to meet her combat training team. He introduced each in turn, and Vivienne was visibly awestruck and thrilled to be meeting the group in person. 

“Fifteen minutes Mrs. Callaghan,” somebody said behind her. Sheryl merely nodded in acknowledgement. 

Another cart arrived, and Vivienne climbed on. She stood on the rear seat and grabbed onto the roof, excited to see everything she could. The cart started off with her in that position and drove out of sight. 

Clay turned back and was under the transport again when the cart returned, Vivienne waving excitedly. Sheryl laughed at the exuberance of her new friend. 

Another vehicle arrived a moment later and a medical team climbed out. A modified cart with a wheelchair platform arrived. 

The medical staff were almost the complete opposite of the combat trainers. They shielded the sun with hands, and seemed to get into brief but intense discussions as they waited. From the transport Sheryl counted five, two white men, one black man, one white woman and another woman who appeared to be of northern Asian heritage. 

Dr. Lucero strode across the tarmac to briefly speak to his colleagues. Fingers danced in the air as the group took notes. After a minute they nodded and Sheryl’s doctor returned to the transport. 

“It’s time.”

Sheryl turned to see Dr. Lucero standing there with a wheelchair. He helped her move into the chair, then guided her toward the exit. 

“Your medical team is waiting. You have some of the best people on the planet overseeing your recovery.”

Sheryl nodded, but she wondered to herself how much leeway she had over her own care. She remembered the warnings, and realized that she had to ask. 

“Doctor?”

“Yes?”

“How much say do I have over medications or procedures?”

“You can refuse or request any treatment unless it’s a matter of life or death. Why?”

Sheryl sighed slightly with relief. “I’d heard that the island is a location for medical testing. I’d rather stay away from anything that hasn’t been approved by the international pharmaceutical board.”

“That’s your choice, but it could mean a longer recovery.”

“You can suggest newer things, but I’d like the default for my care to be approved medication only.”

“I’ll make a note of that in your file, though some of the testing leads may be persistent if they feel that they have something that may be of particular help.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

They’d reached the ramp. They waited until the director gave the cue, then Dr. Lucero wheeled Sheryl down to the tarmac below. 

“Sheryl!” Clay Grayson called with forced enthusiasm. “Welcome to Dreams Island, where dreams come true. It’s an absolute paradise isn’t it?”

Sheryl forced a smile. “It’s beautiful Clay.”

A look of relief passed over his face, but was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. “You’ll get to train here until it’s time for your tower run. Just imagine running through those trees, breathing in the crisp ocean air, far from the pollution of the cities.”

“I can’t wait Clay.”

“Fantastic! Let’s meet your medical team. While Dr. Lucero is your primary physician during your stay on the island, these fine ladies and gentlemen will also be responsible for overseeing your care.”

They’d reached the line of doctors. Most of them appeared to be in their fifties and sixties, with mainly salt and pepper hair and moderate wrinkles. 

“Dr. William Smith, internist,” the first said, offering a strong handshake. “My job is to make sure that all your internal injuries have properly healed.”

Sheryl nodded as Dr. Lucero pushed her to the next doctor. 

“Dr. Margot Leroux.” She clasped both of Sheryl’s hands in her own and patted them in an almost grandmotherly style. “My specialty is medical nanomachines.”

The next doctor stepped forward and held out an ebony hand, his voice was rich with an accent. “Dr. Olawale Adebayo, medical director.”

“Dr. Li Chunhua,” the next woman, said. “I’ll be in charge of your physical therapy.”

“Dr. Adam Kennedy. I’m the head of psychological services.”

Once the medical team was finished with introductions Clay swept back in. “You’re in great hands Sheryl, the medical staff of Dreams Island is the best in the world. You’ll be fully recovered before you know it. Now, are you ready to tour the island?”

Sheryl tried and failed to fake enthusiasm before finally nodding. “Yes.”

“Fantastic! A guide is waiting and ready to take you around and let you get acquainted with your new surroundings.”

“Thank you.” Sheryl managed. 

“My pleasure, and once more. Congratulations on your selection as a contestant!”

A moment of silence then the director called “cut.”

Clay patted Sheryl on the shoulder. “At least you’re trying kid. Don’t worry, soon you’ll be too busy to let anything keep you down.”

He walked away, calling for a stiff drink. 

Vivienne ran over and draped herself over Sheryl. “Don’t let him get you down. Now, are you ready to tour the island with me?”

Sheryl smiled and nodded. 

“Great!”

“One word,” Dr. Lucero said before he relinquished control of the chair to Vivienne, “to both of you. Make friends, like you’re already doing. But never forget where you are.”

Sheryl felt a pit form in her stomach at the gentle warning. It was a reminder that many of the people she would meet could be dead within a year. 

“Now go enjoy the island,” he finished with a gentle smile. “Sheryl, we’ll get started on a comprehensive rehabilitation and training plan tomorrow since I know it’s already been a long day for you. You’ll get the tour now, then the required processing through legal. After that you’ll get settled into the medical wing. You’ll probably be there for a few days for evaluation since you’ve still not been awake long. Once it’s confirmed your injuries are healed you’ll be moved into the medical supervision housing. It’s not as stifling as a hospital setting, more like a care facility.”

Sheryl nodded. 

Dr. Lucero moved aside and allowed Vivienne to take control of the wheelchair. The blonde maneuvered it expertly onto the modified cart, secured it,  then took the spare seat. 

“Ready ladies?” the driver asked. 

“Ready!” Vivienne exclaimed. 

The driver nodded, then set off. The landing pad was on one of the high points of the island, and he headed down the road that led to a beach first. 

“My name is Stephen, and I’ll be telling you about Dreams Island today,” he started. “First, you’ll quickly learn that it’s truly an island paradise. There are beaches around two-thirds of the island, and rocky cliffs perfect for climbing on the rest. The interior is either forested or developed, and you’ll find plenty of trails for walking or hiking.”

The road turned to overlook a sandy beach. 

“The island is home to approximately fifteen thousand regular residents, most of them production staff and their families. At any time there are usually another three thousand guests, temporary employees or contestants. Almost every element of the show is handled here on the island, from construction, training and filming, to marketing, social media, and even things such as bookie certification. There are support offices in New York, London, Cape Town, Tokyo, Dubai, and Rio de Janeiro, but they all have minimal staff and exist solely for handling matters that cannot wait for a representative from the island.”

The road turned away from the beach and was soon shadowed by towering trees. 

“Beyond the core training facility there is the town. While Tower Productions owns the land, it leases buildings to families of employees to run businesses not covered by core production needs. You’ll find it a very diverse place with restaurants featuring cuisine from around the world, boutiques filled with handcrafted goods, and shops that cater to almost every whim. You can use your contestant budget at all the shops.”

“When I called for a pre-departure need it seemed that the offset fee was fairly steep,” Sheryl said. “How fast would I run though the budget?”

Stephen laughed. “Well most contestants get sponsorships. Fewer take employed positions, but there are always a few paid jobs around for contestants who can handle the cut into their training.”

“Really?” Vivienne asked. “Like what?”

“Mostly odd jobs like runners that don’t require much training. Hold on…” He paused, then a moment later. “Ms. Dubois, I’ve been informed of an employment opportunity that might interest you in particular. Apparently the person who teaches the history of  _ The Tower _ to contestants is expected to take maternity leave starting next month. Given your background you would be an ideal replacement, and your run could be postponed until her return.”

“Won’t that interfere with training?”

“You’d set your own schedule. It’s a recommended class for contestants, but not required. You’d also have that much longer to train.”

Vivienne nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

Stephen nodded. “I’ll have staff send you details.”

“Mrs. Callaghan, I’ve also been informed that they’ll need a new runner in the production tower in the next week or so, once a contestant makes their run. They have motorized carts so you wouldn’t need to worry about waiting until after rehabilitation.”

“I’ll look at any details,” Sheryl said. 

Stephen nodded again. “You’ll both have access to the information as well as the communication grid after processing through legal.”

The cart turned a corner to look at a large and very noisy building. 

“This is one of five construction facilities,” Stephen said. “All tower interiors are constructed with modular blocks. This allows crews to furnish floors and speeds the process. A tower takes twenty weeks to build.”

“I’ve heard they’re constructed of almost completely recycled materials,” Vivienne said excitedly. “Is that true?”

Stephen laughed and nodded. “Yes, as much of each tower as possible is made using an easily reclaimed polymer. This reduces the need for raw materials to be harvested or brought in. One of the biggest jobs of reclamation crews after a tower is demolished is to remove anything that can’t be immediately recycled into another tower.”

“So, just structure?” Sheryl ventured.

“Oh no,” he laughed. “Though you’d never know it. They can make it feel and break like brittle wood, reflect like glass, and as tough as hardened steel. About the only things that aren’t made from it are the food and water items, and sponsor prizes.”

Sheryl blinked several times, then noticed a large truck overflowing with debris pulling into the construction yard. “So that’s?”

“From one of the recent towers,” Stephen confirmed. “They don’t even need to do anything except put it back into the printer. It breaks it down and reprints the new components at the same time.”

“That’s incredible!” Vivienne squealed. 

“It’s proprietary technology, though there are a few companies in North America looking to acquire it.”

Stephen started the cart again and continued on their tour. The road took them past several towers in progress. “Each tower has its own pad with three simulation towers, housing for the contestant and their support team for the final week before a run, and the production building which holds all the communication equipment and is the primary nerve center for the run.”

He turned the cart at the next intersection toward the interior of the island. “You’ll be able to freely leave the island one weekend a month, additional trips off island can be purchased from your budget. New Zealand and Fiji are popular destinations due to proximity. You can go anywhere in the world, but if it’s not a frequent location an additional fee will be charged. Trips longer than two days must be approved by your advocate and a member of production staff.”

Buildings started coming closer together as they approached the town that surrounded the production core. Kids waved, and Vivienne excitedly waved back. Sheryl smiled at the enthusiasm. 

“Education on the island is some of the best in the world. Our classrooms are small, and we boast a graduation rate nearing one-hundred percent. Almost every student chooses to go to college, and many become leaders in their field.”

The town was quaint with brightly painted buildings, open storefronts and wide awnings. Then the ambiance changed. The road widened and buildings were larger. 

“Indoor shooting ranges, pools and so many mazes you’ll be sick of them,” Stephen said, gesturing to a cluster of buildings. He then pointed the other way. “Over there are dormitories, and contestant housing. Behind are the gyms and physical training facilities.”

He drove past a hospital. “Medical facilities. There are three wings, entry and long term, emergency and short term, and pre-run evaluation and preventative care. This is the only medical facility on the island so you’ll see employees and residents as well as contestants.”

Stephen steered the cart to a wide circular drive, and Sheryl’s eyes were drawn up to take in the enormity of the production tower. “Here we are ladies, the heart of the most popular show in the world. Staff will escort you to legal once you’re inside. I may or may not be your driver to the hospital and dormitories after, so have a pleasant afternoon, and welcome to Dreams Island.”

Vivienne steered Sheryl off the cart and into the gleaming lobby. Large windows took advantage of the natural light and made the space feel even larger than it was. Employees walked every which way across the shining floor. 

“Ms. Dubois, Mrs. Callaghan,” a young woman just inside the entrance said. “If you’ll follow me I’ll take you to legal for processing.”

A few minutes later they exited the elevator on the twentieth floor. The clean and glossy look continued as they entered the waiting area of the legal department. They were lead to different offices, and by the time they reemerged several hours later Sheryl was truly exhausted. She’d had to sign forms consenting to being filmed, consenting to treatment, consenting to emergency treatment. Other forms were standard liability that the production company would not be held responsible in case of injury or death. One stated that she understood her life was at real risk and she could die as a contestant. 

Eventually the names on the forms blurred together, even as the lawyer refused to allow her to skim. Finally they reached the final form, and Sheryl signed it with a sigh of relief. Her only question throughout hours of signing had been about the communication monitoring that had been on one of the forms. 

It was explained that communications were monitored to prevent corporate espionage, and for potential airing. A program would be added to her implants to allow it the following day. Sheryl signed it, too exhausted to care. 

A few minutes later she joined Vivienne again. They received connection info so that they could connect to the global net, given appointment times for software installation, and then taken to their assigned quarters. Vivienne waved from the step of the dormitory as Sheryl was driven to the hospital. 

A few minutes after arrival Sheryl was helped into a bed, and she fell asleep almost immediately. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate any comments, kudos or shares. 
> 
> Sounds like a lovely place doesn't it... too bad about that whole "a lot of people die here" thing. 
> 
> I'm hanging out a lot on tumblr these days at [phoenixwaller.tumblr.com](http://phoenixwaller.tumblr.com). I'm also on plurk and twitter at @phoenixwaller, and my author page on facebook is @JenniferLWaller
> 
> Find my other YoI fanfics on my AO3 profile at <http://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixwaller/profile>


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheryl starts to acclimated to life on Dreams Island, then attends her first contestant gala.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The island is kinda a surreal place. It's got constant camera attention and glamour, which can also be overwhelming in a way. Anyway, let's get to it. 
> 
> If you've been enjoying this work please click the share button up above and spread the love. 
> 
> Happy Reading!

The next several days passed in a blur. More doctors than Sheryl could remember came into and left her room, checking so many things that she started wondering if she was receiving tests for multiple people. Her biggest break from the constant barrage was when she was wheeled to the head psychologist’s office for an hour. 

Dr. Kennedy talked to her about her life and family, and how she’d felt since waking up. After that first therapy session he informed her that though he agreed with Liam’s diagnosis of dissociation, that it wasn’t severe enough to have impacted her judgement. 

Vivienne visited with Sheryl every afternoon and told her about what she saw around the island and about meeting other contestants. She also worked with Sheryl’s physical therapy team to get approval to take Sheryl down to the therapy pool in the evenings and further work Sheryl’s muscles. 

On the fourth day after her arrival Sheryl received notice that her internal injuries had been sufficiently healed, and that it was time to flush the nanomachines. 

Sheryl had always heard that the procedure was unpleasant, but wasn’t fully prepared for the reality of it. It started with an hour in a nano maintenance tube, which bombarded her with the deactivation signal. After that she was given the first of three doses of a silvery liquid that would bind to the tiny machines and allow her body to filter them. 

The side effects of the binding agent started almost immediately. It began with nausea and upset stomach, but quickly progressed to the point that a nurse had to remain in the room to assist with frequent trips to the bathroom. 

By the time Vivienne arrived that afternoon Sheryl was drenched in sweat and could barely hold anything down for more than a couple minutes. 

Vivienne took one look at Sheryl and strode back into the hall. Sheryl could hardly blame her, but after several minutes the other woman walked back in bearing a moist washcloth. She wiped the sweat from Sheryl’s brow. 

“Those must have been some nanomachines,” Vivienne said softly. Sheryl immediately understood that the other woman was aware of how sound sensitive she was at the moment. “I’m guessing self-replicating.”

“I don’t know,” Sheryl croaked. 

Vivienne winced and laid the cool cloth against Sheryl’s forehead. She stood and walked from the room again before returning with ice chips. “Here,” she said, offering the cup. “I’m betting water won’t stay down, but this should provide some relief.”

Sheryl gratefully sucked on the ice, the cool moisture easing the dry ache in her throat without upsetting her stomach. 

“Which dose are you one?” Vivienne asked as Sheryl set the cup aside. 

Sheryl held up two fingers, too exhausted to want to talk. 

“Standard three?”

Sheryl nodded. 

“It should get better soon then,” Vivienne murmured. “Usually by the time you take the third dose most of the nanos are out of your system.”

“You sound like you’ve been through this,” Sheryl whispered hoarsely. 

Vivienne shook her head. “No, but I’ve known others. Usually the more generalized the nano the worse the flushing. Self-replicating are the worst though. Have you been able to sleep through it at all?”

Sheryl shook her head. 

“Hopefully you can get some rest after the third dose.”

Sheryl smiled and watched as her friend took a seat in the plush guest chair. 

“You don’t have to stay,” Sheryl managed after a minute. “I’m not good company right now.”

Vivienne smiled softly. “What kind of friend would I be to let you suffer alone?”

Sheryl returned the smile. “You’ve probably made other friends. You’re too outgoing not to.”

Vivienne sighed. “Some, but not as many as you’d think. One thing I noticed right away is how much everybody seems to adhere to the advice to remember where we are. People are friendly, but there is a cautious emotional distance.”

“Really?”

Vivienne nodded. “I’ve asked, and everybody says that things change once you experience your first observation as a contestant. I pushed, but everybody just said to wait until Sunday, when Greene runs his tower.”

“He’s the season finale, isn’t he?”

Vivienne nodded, then paused. “That reminds me, do you think you’ll make the gala?”

“Hmm?”

“They’ve still not turned back on full implant functionality?”

Sheryl shook her head. “Not until the nanos are gone.”

Vivienne sighed. “You’d think they’d be better about giving you info, all things considered. There is a gala for new contestants on Saturday night. It’ll be our official introduction as contestants for the one-hundred and twenty-fifth season.”

Sheryl blanched, she hadn’t had a chance to review her memorial footage. “What… what will they be airing?”

Vivienne blinked several times. “Huh?”

“I… I had a memorial visit, they said I could preview the audio and request a percentage be removed.”

“Oh,” Vivienne replied. “I guess you’ve never watched the galas.”

Sheryl shook her head. “I have, everybody does. But I never paid much attention to how detailed the introductions got.”

“Ah, I understand now. Don’t worry, even if they focus a bit longer on you there is too much going on for them to go in depth. There are already thirty contestants here for next season, and they’ll give more airtime to the ones that will run in the next two months. They’ve been here a while and it’s time to drive enthusiasm. I also wouldn’t be surprised if they dedicate some time to that jackass Greene and this stunt he’s pulling. Combined with crowd footage of the dinner, staff awards and the memorial reels you’ll probably get a basic introduction, with maybe a sob story montage before they move on. If anything from your memorial visit is shown it’ll have a voice over.”

Sheryl nodded and managed to relax into the pillows. She was almost asleep when another wave of nausea overwhelmed her, and was immensely grateful as Vivienne held her hair back from her face as she retched into a bedpan. 

“I took the position teaching the history of  _ The Tower _ ,” Vivienne said as she returned to the chair. 

Sheryl made a questioning noise. 

Vivienne smiled. “It pushed my run from the first quarter to the fourth so they could give at least six months of maternity leave and still give me adequate training. But I’m excited. I’m sitting through a lot of the classes now and watching how she handles things before I take over.”

“You’re not worried about being away from Elevate for that long?”

Vivienne shook her head. “I made sure that Elevate could survive me being away before I left. I still hold controlling shares, but there is a competent CEO at the helm. Remember I’d considered returning to school anyway so I’d already started to transition it to self-sufficiency without me.”

Sheryl nodded. 

Vivienne refreshed the cool towel, and had just placed it on Sheryl’s forehead when the nurse came in with the third dose of nano-flushing liquid.

As Vivienne had predicted, the nausea wasn’t as bad with the third dose, and soon Sheryl was in and out of sleep. 

“I’m headed to the dorms,” Vivienne said as Sheryl awoke from a fitful nap. “It’s getting late and I have an early training session since it’s expected to be a foggy morning.”

Sheryl turned and saw that the sun had set hours earlier. “You didn’t have to spend all evening here.”

“No, but like I said earlier, it’s what friends do. Your symptoms should be gone by morning.”

“Thank you.”

Vivienne smiled. 

“Good luck with your training.”

“It’s combat training in low visibility conditions. I’m super excited!”

Sheryl laughed. “Quite a thing to be excited about.”

“Well low light, fog and other visibility impaired scenarios account for roughly ten percent of challenges. It’s a good thing to train, since more towers have at least one of these challenges than not.”

“I see.”

“Actually, you might have an advantage… depending on when you start training.”

“How so?”

“Injuries are common, and some impair mobility. But you have to keep moving. If you start training before you’re fully walking again you’ll be in a better position to deal with those challenges than anybody else.”

“Don’t they have simulation training for that?”

“Yes, but there’s a difference between being temporarily impaired, and actually impaired. You’ll learn your limits in a better way.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Vivienne smiled. “Once you’re in medical assist quarters and not in the hospital proper I’ll help you with a plan.”

“Ok.”

Vivienne leaned over and hugged Sheryl.

“I have to smell gross you know,” Sheryl protested. 

“I’ll live, or take a shower if it rubs off.”

Sheryl laughed. “Thanks Vivi.”

“See you tomorrow Sher.”

* * *

 

“Sponsored clothes are the best!” Vivienne cheered, spinning in Sheryl’s hospital room. Harsh lighting glittered off the teal jeweled bodice and opalescent layers of chiffon gently shimmered. “Even I wouldn’t have dared splurge on a gown like this, and I was the founder and CEO of an insanely popular startup.”

Sheryl noticed the soft shimmer of a pearlescent powder on Vivienne’s face, loose blond curls framing her smile as she leaned in to help Sheryl into her own sponsored clothing. Sheryl had picked a pair of black silk slacks and a shiny gold blouse, easier to get into and out of than a gown when she couldn’t stand on her own. Vivienne propped Sheryl up with plenty of pillows, then set to applying makeup and pulling Sheryl’s hair into an updo that allowed her mahogany hair to tumble over one shoulder. 

“Perfect!” Vivienne declared when she stood. 

“I feel overdressed,” Sheryl sighed, looking at the results in a hand mirror. 

“Nonsense. Even I might be slightly underdressed, and I’m wearing something much flashier than you,” Vivienne retorted. “Extravagant is an understatement for these things. There are only four a year, at the beginning of each quarter. They’re the biggest red carpet events, surpassing any awards show and with a budget that supposedly dwarfs the GDP of some small nations.”

“How?” The amount seemed staggering. 

Vivienne shrugged. “I think they count the sponsor items. My dress is easily worth twenty-thousand dollars. Your pants and blouse are probably similarly priced.”

Sheryl looked at her outfit, tempted to question it, but let the matter drop. “I don’t know how they can justify all this. Most of us are nobodies!”

“Not anymore, you know that!”

Sheryl sighed. “You’re already used to the constant camera presence, aren’t you?”

Vivienne nodded. “I am, but remember I was frequently in the news before so I had less an adjustment than most.” She paused then laughed. “That pompous tool Greene should have said he could have run in under a month, rather than right away, he’d have loved the constant attention.”

“Well he’ll likely have it after tomorrow.”

Vivienne nodded, but her smile faltered a bit. “As much as I can’t stand the guy, and as much as I dread the boasting afterward, I hope he makes it. I guess the island’s officiant wed him and his fiancee… just in case.”

“Probably not the wedding they wanted.”

“Probably not,” Vivienne agreed somberly. “But he can throw a lavish reception for family and friends when he gets back to wherever he decides to go after.”

There was a knock at the door and a nurse popped her head in. “The cart is waiting out front to take you to the production tower.”

“Thanks!” Vivienne said, hopping up from the bed. 

“Are you sure you’re ok as an escort Ms. Dubois?” the nurse asked. “We can send staff so that you can enjoy the party.”

“Nonsense!” Vivienne replied. “It’s just a wheelchair. We’ll be fine.”

“Contact event staff if you need an orderly sent over then.”

“Okay!”

Vivienne helped Sheryl into her wheelchair then guided her through the corridors and to the cart waiting out front. A few minutes later they were greeted by a literal red carpet running from the production tower. Reporters from multiple networks lined a velvet rope, shouting questions and vying for attention. 

“They said we don’t have to grant interviews if we don’t want to,” Vivienne said, leaning over to murmur where only Sheryl could hear. “We’re second half contestants, so they’d rather those in the first half of the year get the coverage.”

Sheryl nodded. “I’d rather not then.”

“Ok, we’ll go find our table. I requested us be together.”

“Ok.”

The lobby of the production tower had been transformed for the event. Screens showing highlights lined the walk to the event hall. Contestants, trainers and staff mingled in the entrance, but Vivienne pushed Sherl past and to the open double doors of the hall. 

Tables were set up in front of a stage, a large screen behind the podium. Tiered seating expanded the capacity well beyond the tables at the front.

“I never imagined I’d be here,” Sheryl said as Vivienne pushed her down the ramp to the floor. 

“It’s a rare honor.”

“Do we know who the entertainment is?” Sheryl asked as Vivienne paused to review the AR layout of the room. 

“Does it matter? Probably the biggest pop idol or two in the past few months, maybe a comedian.”

Sheryl chuckled. “I guess it’s not a big deal.”

Soon the hall filled with contestants, staff and special guests. By the time the doors closed Sheryl thought that easily a thousand people had somehow filtered in. 

“I thought you said there were only thirty contestants here…” Sheryl murmured. 

Vivienne nodded. “I asked what to expect since there are rarely detailed crowd shots in the televised specials. Turns out it’s a big event in which particular teams on the production staff are recognized after the contestant intros. Tonight it’s building, scenario development and execution.”

“Ummm?”

“Basically the people who come up with ideas, turn them into something usable and build them.”

“Oh.”

The lights dimmed, and Clay Grayson strode across the stage in a green suit. 

“Green, cause this was a high payout season for those who survived,” Vivienne whispered, making Sheryl chuckle. 

Grayson told a handful of obligatory jokes, then introduced the first guest performance. Dinner arrived just before the contestant introductions started. 

Just as Vivienne had predicted, they spent several minutes dedicated to Anthony Greene and his no-training stunt. Then they started introducing contestants, starting with the ones who would run first. 

By the time they reached Vivienne and Sheryl they’d been through two more guest performances. 

Sheryl breathed a sigh of relief when Vivienne’s expectations played out, and the segment introducing her consisted mainly of a short bio with a voiceover of any footage. 

Then the memorials of contestants lost over the past three months started, showing a recap of their stories, training, and ultimately highlights of their run before their towers collapsed. 

Sheryl couldn’t help but notice a number of other contestants averting their eyes as people they were close to were remembered. 

Clay thanked the teams for their work. He handed out token awards for particularly well-executed scenarios. The televised portion of the gala came to an end. Contestants, guests and production crews were invited to dance and mingle, but many started filtering out of the hall. 

“Do you want to stay?” Vivienne asked. 

Sheryl shook her head. 

“I don’t blame you. Back to the hospital?”

“Yeah.”

“Will you be watching Greene’s run tomorrow?”

Sheryl sighed. “Probably… I think I should anyway. I need to actually start paying attention rather than being a casual viewer.”

Vivienne nodded. “There’s a viewing party here every Sunday. So we’ll come back. Food is provided and it’s a more comfortable place than smaller quarters.”

Sheryl nodded as a humid gust of wind welcomed her outside again. 

“Vivi?”

“Hmm?”

“Was it everything you’d hoped?”

Vivienne laughed. “A bit more somber, but each one has a different mood. I can’t wait for the next one.”

Sheryl smiled up at her friend as the cart pulled around. 

Vivienne got Sheryl situated back in her hospital room then prepared to leave.

“See you tomorrow,” Sheryl said. 

Vivienne smiled from where she stood near the door. “It’s our first observation as contestants.”

Sheryl nodded. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate any comments, kudos or shares. 
> 
> Next chapter, the first Tower run that Sheryl watches on the island. 
> 
> Talk to me about The Tower or my other fics on tumblr at [phoenixwaller.tumblr.com](http://phoenixwaller.tumblr.com). I'm also on plurk and twitter at @phoenixwaller, and my author page on facebook is @JenniferLWaller
> 
>  
> 
> Please subscribe for updates. Learn more about _The Tower_ on my website at [phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/](http://www.phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheryl and Vivienne observe their first Tower run as contestants: Anthony Greene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Anthony Greene to make his tower run, and for Sheryl and Vivienne to get a glimpse of how watching is different on the island. 
> 
> If you've been enjoying this work please click the share button up above and spread the love. 
> 
> Happy Reading!

The hall in the production tower had been completely changed overnight, the lavish decor removed, as had the theater-style seating. Instead the floor was tiered, tables with semi-circle benches around each one, giving everybody a view of the screen. A buffet table sat on the lowest level, the smell of assorted breakfast foods wafted through the space. 

Vivienne pushed Sheryl to the buffet, and several other contestants stepped aside or pointed out what she couldn’t easily see. A few minutes later she held her own and Vivienne’s trays of food as they made their way up several tiers and to a level almost even with the screen. 

They had just started eating when a voice came from Sheryl’s left.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” a deep voice asked, tone curling around the vowels. 

Sheryl and Vivienne both turned to the newcomer. He was tall and slender with skin the color of mocha. 

Vivienne smiled. “Go ahead.”

He smiled, white teeth a contrast against his dark complexion. He set his plate on the table then weaved his fingers together as he prayed. He finished with the sign of the cross then looked up at Vivienne and Sheryl. 

“Vivienne Dubois,” Vivienne said, offering a hand.  

“Siyabonga Naidoo,” he replied, accepting the shake. He turned to Sheryl. 

“Sheryl Callaghan.”

“It’s lovely to meet you ladies.” He paused. “I don’t recall seeing either of you before. New arrivals?”

Sheryl nodded. “We came in several days ago.”

“So this would be your first observation?”

Vivienne nodded. 

Siyabonga was silent. “It’s different here. I watched every week before, but it’s hard now. I’ve seen many people I met here die.”

“How long have you been on the island?” Sheryl asked. 

“Four months,” he replied. 

“When’s your run?” Vivienne asked. 

“My trainers think next month, June.”

“So I can’t place your accent,” Sheryl said. “Where’s home?”

He smiled. “South Africa.”

The screen turned on, and they turned their attention to it. The theme song thundered through the hall. 

Sheryl immediately felt a sense of cold dread through the room. Unlike the viewing parties she’d attended in the past, nobody clapped or cheered. This was one of their own, about to risk his life. 

Clay Grayson stood next to Greene, slender microphone in his hand and wearing the gray suit that the public associated with run days. 

“Tell us how you feel Mr. Greene,” Grayson requested jovially. 

“I’m excited Clay! I’m about to make history!.”

“That’s right,” Grayson agreed. “Now, before we send you to your tower do you have anything you want to say?”

Greene nodded and walked over to a young woman, he knelt before her. “I love you Del. You made me the happiest man alive when you agreed to marry me, and again when we wed a few days ago. I’ll make it through here, and we’ll have the best honeymoon ever.”

A graphic popped up with her name  _ Delilah Greene _ . She held one hand to her face, tears rolling down her face as she nodded. “You’ll be great, I just know it. I’ll see you soon.”

“Dad…” Greene said, standing and walking over to clasp the other man’s hand. “Thank you. You gave me the strength to be here today. I’ll make you proud, I promise.”

Another name popup, then David Greene pulled his son into his arms. “I’m already proud. Now go show the world just how amazing you are.”

Greene walked over to the final man, who seemed to have a scowl permanently etched onto his face. “Don’t worry coach, we’ll get training for next season as soon as this is over. I love biathlon and intend to keep doing it”

“You better not have gotten soft on me this past week,” replied Alex Johnson. “We’re making up for lost time after your honeymoon.”

“Yes coach!”

Greene returned to Grayson’s side. 

“Any words for the audience?”

Greene grinned, struck a signature pose and declared. “I’m Anthony Greene, and I’m about to be the first contestant to ever make a tower run with no show sponsored training!”

“Fantastic!” Grayson replied. “Now head on over to the helicopter pad and the flight crew will take you to your tower.”

Greene waved in the dim morning light, spotlights harsh on his skin as he strode to the helicopter. 

A narrator read information about Greene as the aircraft lifted off and headed toward the tower and the support team made their way inside a building. 

Vivienne’s hand snuck under the table and grabbed Sheryl’s. She clasped it tightly.

“Vivi?” Sheryl asked softly. 

“This is the part I’m most nervous about for him,” Vivienne murmured back. “Most escapees say entry training is the hardest and can take weeks.”

Siyabonga nodded from the other side of Vivienne. “Entry training is extremely difficult.”

“Maybe they gave him a door on the roof,” Sheryl suggested. 

Vivienne gave a dry chuckle. “Not likely. Remember, he is a replacement contestant. They haven’t had enough time to customize a tower properly. He probably got whatever was ready for today, then some last minute changes to the psychological challenges.”

The helicopter circled the building, and as Vivienne had seemed to think, there was no door on the roof. Instead the only apparent entrance was a round window on the side of the building. A lone rope dangled over the edge near it, swaying in the breeze. 

Vivienne shook her head. “Well... at least he won’t have to deal with downdraft from the helicopter.”

Greene jumped out of the aircraft and landed on the roof. He took a moment to check a backpack. As he examined the contents sponsor ads for his initial equipment choices flashed across the screen. 

“Knife… gun…” Vivienne narrated. “Good choices. Expansion bags, always a good pick. Why do people always waste valuable carry space with a first aid kit?”

“Huh?” Sheryl asked. “Isn’t that important?”

Vivienne rolled her eyes. “If it’s small enough for that kit it can be ignored. If a wound needs treatment bad enough then it’s worth the three minute wait for the emergency aid system to drop a proper kit. That little thing just wastes time and space. I’ve seen too many contestants try to make it work and waste more time rebandaging than moving. Just do it right the first time.”

Sheryl filed the information away as useful. 

“Canteen, good choice. Didn’t waste room on rations. He better get moving, his entry timer is going. He’s only got fifteen minutes left to get inside. Ooooh, smart move, he grabbed one of those little emergency hammers. That’ll make entry easier, and probably serve him well inside the tower.”

Greene stood, pulled on a pair of gloves, secured the backpack, added the hammer to his webbing, then moved over to look at the rope. He gauged it for a minute, then pulled it up. 

“What’s he doing?” Sheryl asked. 

Greene made a loop in the rope and knotted it, leaving a secure spot for a hand or foot. 

“He must not be comfortable without something to grab onto,” Vivienne said. “But he’ll still have to get down to it.”

He tossed the rope over the side again and grabbed on. He slid down until his feet found the knot. He worked one foot into the loop, then leaned over to where he could just reach the window. It took him three tries to break the glass, he cleared as much as he could, then secured the hammer again. 

Greene held onto the rope tight with both hands as he started to swing. He added power to each direction until the arcs were big enough for him to fully grasp the window frame. He pulled himself up and over the threshold. He shimmied into a tiny holding area with five minutes of his entry timer left. 

He used the loop around his foot to pull as much rope as possible into the crawl-space. He cut the rope and looped about twenty feet around his arm before securing it in his bag. 

“Good thinking,” Vivienne said, nodding at the grabbing of a resource early on. “He’s short on time, but he should take a minute here and recover from the entry.”

The camera focus on Greene, sweat rolling down his temples. He took several deep breaths, then started to explore the dark space for the entrance. 

“He’s running out of time,” Vivienne said, squeezing Sheryl’s hand. 

Greene was frustrated, having already felt along the walls and the floor. It was with less than two minutes remaining that he started to feel along the ceiling of the space. 

A trap-door opened above him, light flooding down. He blinked and waited a second. 

“Move,” Vivienne hissed. 

Green reached up and pulled himself from the crawl-space to the twenty-fourth story of his tower. A timer lit up on the screen:  _ 8:00:00. _ The numbers immediately started counting down as a sigh of relief went through the room. 

“That was too close,” Vivienne breathed as she slumped in her seat, half-eaten meal forgotten. “Granted, this is the season finale, so audiences probably loved it.”

“When was the last time a tower fell from entry expiration?” Sheryl asked, wondering if she’d missed one.

“Two years ago,” Vivienne replied. 

The chatter of Greene and his support team poured from the sound system as he performed a communication check. He was in a blinding white room with no clear exit. Furniture, decor, everything in it was white, and lights at varying levels minimized shadows. 

“And right into a color challenge,” Vivienne said. “He need to find contrast, fast.”

Greene took out his hammer and started smashing lights until the room was less blinding. A couple minutes later he’d stuffed several things into his backpack and had unlocked a door. 

Chatter started through the hall as Greene appeared to have successfully managed both the entry and the first challenge. 

“Siyabonga, right?” Sheryl asked as they resumed eating their almost cold food. 

The man at the other end of the table nodded. 

“What made you accept the invitation?”

He smiled. “For the pride of my country and my village. I’m the first man from my village to be selected.”

“And for South Africa?”

He nodded. “No South African has escaped in ten years. I intend to change that.”

“Tell us more about yourself?” Vivienne asked. 

Siyabonga chewed his bottom lip before starting. “Before this I was an engineer. I was helping to design a new water capture system in the village center. I plan to use some of my winnings to expand the project and raise the overall quality of life there.”

“That’s a noble goal,” Sheryl replied. 

He smiled softly. “We’re far from a major city and there are only a few thousand of us. There are a lot of conveniences we don’t have. I’d love to invest in some infrastructure projects for the village.”

“You hear so many people talking about the trips and items, it’s nice to hear somebody planning to do good,” Vivienne replied. 

He smiled. “But if anyone has the world's goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God's love abide in him? Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth - John chapter 3 verses seventeen and eighteen.” He paused. “I’d like to leave something other than money for my children and theirs. I tell them every day to live in a way that would please the Lord. What kind of man... what kind of father would I be if I didn’t heed my own words?”

“How old are they?” Sheryl asked. 

“My son is ten, my daughter is eight,” he grinned, seeming to grow as he spoke about his family. “And even after twelve years of marriage my wife is still the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Sheryl smiled. “You seem proud of them.”

He nodded. “I watch them do good things every day, and I know that they’ll be people who the community can rely on.”

A cheer swept the room as Greene unlocked the door and moved to the twenty-third floor. 

Siyabonga excused himself to get more food. 

“Where does he put it?” Sheryl asked. “His first plate seemed pretty full.”

“It was, but it was all fairly low calorie,” Vivienne replied. “You’ll probably get to a point where you’re eating a lot more too. No matter what we’re called, every person here is in rigorous athletic training. We need to build ourselves to the point where we can be in intense and constant movement for a minimum of eight hours. Your dietician meeting is this week, right?”

Sheryl nodded. 

“You’ll be building muscle mass on top of just training, so they’ll probably have you on even more calories.”

“Oh.”

Vivienne laughed. “Don’t worry, they’ll probably change my diet too, and I’d already consulted with a dietician for my work with Elevate. But this is different, our bodies have needs and the fastest way to fail is to ignore them.”

On the screen Greene ran into a puzzle that gave him a bit of difficulty and the tension in the room rose as the minutes ticked by. He figured it out and the easy banter resumed. 

Siyabonga returned with his second plate of breakfast, then excused himself to mingle once his plate was clean. 

Sheryl quickly learned that run observations were social events for contestants. She lost count of people and track of names as people of all ages and from across the globe stopped by the table to chat. She’d always known that the show gathered contestants from diverse backgrounds, but seeing them all assembled in one area really reinforced how far reaching the show’s influence was. 

There was a young man who almost made her cry he made her think of Benny so much, he planned to use his winnings to go to college then open a wildlife refuge. Then there was the man in his early fifties who seemed shell-shocked to even be there, but his toned muscles indicated that he’d make a good run. He admitted that he hadn’t even thought of the money, too focused on surviving and knowing better than to get ahead of himself. 

There was a petite woman with sharp eyes about Sheryl’s own age from Japan. She roamed the hall with another woman from Sweden, and both seemed to have a passion for fine art. 

Tension started to infuse the room again. Four hours had passed and Greene had only descended as far as the fourteenth floor, two floors higher than the target for the remaining time. His support team urged him to look for timer extensions, even as he tried to argue that he could make up the lost time. 

“He’s doing good on the physical and combat based challenges,” Vivienne observed, “but the puzzles are slowing him down. And he hasn’t even reached the real psychological challenges yet. He needs to listen to his team and look for extensions.”

A bang thundered from the speakers as Greene took a key, but triggered a cascade event that had him running. 

Vivienne shook her head. “Has he ever even watched before? That weight trigger wasn’t even disguised.”

“He saw it,” Siyabonga said from their left. “I saw it in his eyes. He decided to risk the run and not waste time looking for something to switch.”

“That’s idiotic!” Vivienne cried. 

The man shrugged and ran a hand over his short curly hair. “Perhaps, but listen to his support. They’re getting desperate on the time issue, and he’s making rash decisions.”

Vivienne stared and studied the screen. “He shouldn’t have brought his coach. The man knows how to push him to be faster, but he doesn’t know how to push him to be  _ smarter. _ ”

Siyabonga nodded. “Pacing is critical, and right now he has none.”

A scream echoed through the hall. Greene’s arm had been caught in the cascade, and hung limply at his side. 

Vivienne hissed in a breath as Greene slumped outside the boundaries of the challenge and called for emergency aid. Three minutes later a large kit was lowered from the ceiling. Greene fumbled with the contents, squinting and gritting his teeth as he read the labels on the various syringes. 

“Remember your mnemonics,” Vivienne pleaded with the man who couldn’t hear her. “Blue for bone, green for general. You’re wasting time reading.”

A minute later Greene plunged the blue syringe into his forearm and pressed the plunger, wincing as he forced fast-acting nanos into his body. 

“That took too long,” Vivienne murmured. “Even if he pushes, he’ll be in too much pain to do anything for at least ten minutes. He’s just lucky it wasn’t his leg.”

Nervous chatter filled the hall. Greene was already behind on time, then injured. He’d have to look for timer extensions and hope that he hadn’t missed the best ones on higher floors. 

Greene stumbled to his feet, weaving and tripping over himself as he forced himself toward the next challenge. 

“He needs to push through until the break room on twelve,” Vivienne mused, clenching her hand on the table. 

“How much break time does he have?” Sheryl asked. 

“Almost the full two hours,” Vivienne replied. “He’d only taken bathroom breaks and grabbed protein bars in upper levels, not bothering to rest. If he could give himself a half hour to recuperate and reevaluate his strategy he might be able to turn it around.”

Siyabonga shook his head, and both Sheryl and Vivienne turned for his opinion. 

“If he finds an extension… maybe,” the soft-spoken man said. “But he’s too rattled now. I fear that even with a break to recover he’s not prepared for the psychological challenges.”

Sheryl turned back to the screen, and she could see what Siyabonga meant. Greene’s eyes were wild, cast about in desperation as he forced himself to move through the pain of a mending limb. By the time he made it to the break room on the twelfth floor he was visibly exhausted, and had yet to find an extension. 

The contestants in the hall collectively eased when Greene asked his support team to wake him in an hour. By then lunch had arrived and the nervous chatter was replaced by the clinking of silverware. 

Sheryl was amazed at the variety of food served for lunch, her eyes wandering over things she couldn’t pronounce and couldn’t readily identify. 

“Why so much?” she asked. 

“Oh, that’s right, you’ve not been to the cafeteria yet,” Vivienne laughed. “It’s a bit more extravagant today, but you’ve never seen so many regional foods all in one place in your life, even the class one meals. I asked my dietician during my initial meeting, and he explained that it makes more sense to keep people on flavors and ingredients that are familiar. Anybody can try anything for their meal class or lower, but this prevents training delays due to bodies trying to adjust to a completely new diet.”

“Oh…” Sheryl replied, picking out something that smelled delicious from the Indian foods section. 

They ate while recaps and sponsor ads filled the break period. 

“So you mentioned mnemonics,” Sheryl said to Vivienne. “I don’t think I’m familiar with the ones for emergency aid.”

“Oh!” Vivienne laughed. Sheryl noticed that Siyabonga leaned in too. “They’re easy. Blue for bone, green for general… like if you think you have an internal injury, muscle tear, or multiple injuries. Pink for pain, red for blood, which I know doesn’t have the alliteration, but is easy to remember. It goes farther though, those are just the nano injections. In the pills we repeat pink for lower-level pain, amber for allergies… There are more, but those are the ones you’d likely encounter here.”

“Wow…” Sheryl said. 

“Useful, yes?” Vivienne said. “It’s standardized globally so first responders can jump into an emergency anywhere they go and be able to act without wasting time trying to figure out what syringe does what. Also, pink and red work with the other colors. But you don’t want to mix blue and green, so pick appropriately.”

Sheryl nodded. 

A buzzer sounded and Greene’s clock started again. 

The cameras focused on him as he made his way to the first puzzle room. Circles lined under his eyes, he breathed in short gasps. 

“He’s still in pain,” Vivienne observed. “It must have been a nasty break. He should have used the pink too.”

The shift from earlier floors was apparent. Instead of spending time looking for money vouchers and sponsor prizes, Greene desperately searched for timer extension buttons. The countdown timer in the corner of the screen indicated that he had three hours remaining to clear twelve floors. 

Greene failed a physical challenge, and had to wait for it to reset. By the time he cleared the floor and moved onto the eleventh he’d spent a full half hour. 

Siyabonga bowed his head in prayer, then stood from the table. 

“You’re leaving?” Vivienne asked. 

The dark-skinned man nodded. “I’m going to go to the church and say a prayer for him, but I’ve seen it before. I’d rather not watch another tower fall here. They announce time remaining and floor every half hour, then every five minutes the last hour. If there is an increase of a good timer extension I’ll come back.”

Vivienne nodded, and Sheryl noticed several other people quietly leaving the hall, a collective look of pained resignation on their faces. 

“It really is different here,” Sheryl murmured. “When I attended viewing parties before this is about the time most people would start paying attention and playing armchair quarterback.”

Vivienne nodded in agreement. 

There was a cry of relief from the screen. Sheryl turned to see Greene hunched over and peering into a tiny space. Just visible was a timer extension button. He smashed it triumphantly. 

_ “Timer extended: forty-eight seconds.” _ a computerized voice stated. 

Greene let out a wail and forced himself toward the next challenge. 

“He doesn’t see how useful that is…” Vivienne sighed. “That button was nearly white. All he needs to do now is find a button of a different color to determine which is hours and which is minutes. Finding a light one of either will help.”

More people made their way from the hall, and a sense of dread settled over those who remained. 

Sheryl was acutely aware that she was counting down the minutes until Anthony Greene died. It was all very real in a way that it never had been before. 

She thought of the people in viewing parties, still cheering in their disconnected world. 

“Do you want to leave?” Vivienne asked. 

Sheryl blinked. “Do you?”

Vivienne reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind Sheryl’s ear. “You’re pale, and you keep clenching and unclenching your hands.”

Sheryl released a ragged breath. “It’s just all too real now.”

Vivienne nodded. “I know what you mean. Do you want to go?”

Sheryl shook her head. “No. I’ll stay. I think I need this. But go if you need to, don’t stay for my sake.”

Vivienne sighed. “I need this too. I ran so many simulations that a part of me forgot that people die. Besides, he still might find a better button.”

Vivienne reached out and grabbed Sheryl’s hand. “But we’re not islands in this either.”

Sheryl nodded and squeezed. 

Greene made up some time on the ninth floor, which was a single large puzzle room. But stalled again on the eighth. He found another button in the second challenge room on the seventh floor. 

_ “Timer extension: thirty minutes.” _

Greene cursed at having found a minutes button instead of hours, but a sigh of relief went through the hall. 

“All he needs to do is find a button in the third color,” Vivienne breathed. “The lowest hour button is for a full hour. If he can get that and his head back in the game there’s still hope.”

Sheryl looked at the timer, even with the extension he had just under an hour and a half remaining to clear six and a half floors.

Greene seemed weighed down with every step, sweat rolled down his body. His black hair clung limply to his head, the green tips seeming more diseased than energetic. Exhaustion was written across his face, and even his support seemed to just keep pushing him forward. 

“Come on,” Vivienne urged as he landed on the sixth floor with just over an hour left. “People have come back from farther behind than this. Push through, find a button. Odds are the biggest puzzles are behind you now. It’s become a test of endurance.”

Greene froze as he took in the scene: a schoolyard on a sunny day. Swings drifted lazily in a simulated breeze. To Sheryl it seemed an ordinary sight, but Greene trembled. 

“Oh shit…” Vivienne muttered. “This must be a psychological challenge. Does he even have any reserve left to fight through it?”

Greene took a couple steps, and voices, barely audible at first, sounded from the speakers. The deeper Green walked into the room the louder they got. 

“ _ Fatso, fatso, Anthony’s a fatso,” _ they sing-songed. 

Greene put his hands to his ears. “Make it stop.” He squeezed his eyes and crouched. 

“Don’t listen to them Tony,” his father demanded. “You proved them wrong a long time ago.”

Greene took several shaking steps, and new voices joined the chorus.

_ “Anthony is too fat for sports.” _

_ “Who could ever love a lardass like Anthony?” _

_ “The only job Anthony will ever have is mall Santa, he won’t even need the fat suit.” _

“Nooooo…” Greene wailed, holding his hands tight to his ears. “That’s not who I am anymore.”

“That’s right Tony,” the coach declared. “That’s not who you are. You’re a world-class athlete who just set a record for biathlon. You’re the first man to run a tower without sponsored training.”

Greene’s eyes were glassy as the voices got louder. He moved sluggishly, robotically looking for clues. 

He uncovered a timer extension, hand hovering over it even as his support told him not to press it. 

_ “Timer extension: forty-two seconds.” _

“That was all his extensions,” Vivienne said, chewing her bottom lip. She looked at the timer. “He’s not going to make it. He’s only got half an hour left, and five floors still to go after this one. That’s unheard of even if he  _ does _ manage to recover from this.”

Greene managed to find and unlock the door to the fifth floor. 

“No…” his father’s voice carried through the hall like an omen. 

Greene wailed with anguish at the shattered domestic scene. Glass littered carpet, red pools mimicked bloodstains. 

“Push past Tony,” his father ordered. “This isn’t now. This happened a long time ago.”

“Mama…” Greene breathed, sliding down a wall. “Maddie…”

“Keep moving baby,” Greene’s wife urged. “Come on, you can still get out.” 

“Shake it off Tony,” his coach demanded. 

A chyron explained that Greene had returned home after practice one day to find his birth mother and baby sister murdered after a robbery gone wrong. They had been shot with his own rifle, which he’d forgotten that day. 

“No… no, no, no…” Greene muttered, holding his head, eyes glassy as he stared at the recreated scene. 

“Listen to me Tony.” 

Greene’s head came up at the sound of his wife’s voice. 

“I love you. I know you can still get out. Push through baby. We still have a honeymoon to go on. We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us.”

“I can’t do it…” Greene whimpered. “I’ve got less than half an hour left.”

“You don’t know until you try,” she begged. “If anybody can do it, you can. Come on baby, don’t give in now.”

Greene nodded and stumbled to his feet. He found the door, and noted the puzzle. He only had to flip switches in a couple of room. 

He stumbled through the ransacked house recreation. At one point he found a timer extension button, but it did nothing when he pressed it. 

“That was hours…” Vivienne sighed. “If only he hadn’t hit the one on the sixth floor.”

Greene stumbled through the door to the fourth floor with ten minutes remaining on the clock. Booming music sounded through the space, and neon lighting reflected off the stairs, but when the camera panned to the floor it was a large shooting gallery. He only needed to hit the bullseye on five targets to proceed. 

“You got this Tony!” the coach shouted. 

Greene nodded, but quickly showed signs of distraction at the volume of music and the dance lighting. He took three shots at the first target, and four at the second. 

“Come on Tony! Don’t waste the time reloading again. Just hit the marks with the next three shots.”

“Yes Coach,” he replied on instinct. 

He missed the next target, and hit it on the second shot. He hit the fourth on the first try, but then had to reload. 

“ _ One minute remaining.” _

Greene dropped the magazine at the announcement and fumbled for it in the dim lighting. 

_ “Thirty seconds remaining.” _

“I love you Tony,” his wife said. 

He looked up, and dropped the weapon. “I’m sorry Delilah. I can’t take you on that honeymoon. I love you so much.”

“It’s ok. Thank you for making me your wife. You made me happy every day.” She was barely restraining her sobs. “I love you.”

He took a breath. “Dad, Coach. Thank you. Thank you for being here today, and for being such great role models.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out son,” his dad replied. 

“Thank you for being a great student,” his coach said. 

_ “Five.” _

“I’m sorry…”

_ “Four.” _

“Thank you.”

_ “Three.” _

“I love you all.”

_ “Two.” _

“Goodbye.”

_ “One.” _

The camera cut to the outside of the tower as a rumble started. The upper floors collapsed first, debris raining down the sides as walls failed. Within a minute it had fallen into its own footprint, a lingering cloud of dust ringing the area.

There was a pregnant pause as they waited for a life-signs report from Greene’s implants. 

A photo of Anthony Greene filled the screen, the destruction of his tower behind him. Underneath the photo the date and the word  _ deceased _ were written. 

There was a wail of grief from Greene’s wife before her microphone was cut. 

The camera cut to Clay Grayson, wearing a somber charcoal suit. “It was a good run, and a daring choice to run without sponsored training. Unfortunately, Anthony Greene ran out of time and perished on the fourth floor. To all his family and friends, we are sorry for your loss.”

He waited for a moment before continuing. “This ends the one-hundred and twenty-fourth season of  _ The Tower. _ Join us next week as we celebrate the start of the one-hundred and twenty-fifth. Good night.”

There was pain in Sheryl’s hand. She looked down to see Vivienne’s hand wrapped around it, knuckles white. 

“He… god…” Vivienne said. “He had a seventy-five percent chance of survival. He was a pompous ass, but…”

Sheryl leaned over and hugged her friend. “I know…”

Both women were crying softly as other contestants started to file out of the hall. 

“It doesn’t get any easier,” one said, pausing as he walked past. “But even still, a sort of apathy eventually settles in. Around the world people who bet against him are collecting their winnings, while somewhere on this island a widow grieves.

“The hall is still pretty full… probably because nobody here had interacted with him.”

“We came in on the transport with him,” Vivienne whispered. 

“I’m sorry,” he replied, shaking his head. He moved on.

They sat there in shocked silence for several minutes before Sheryl finally sighed. “We should go.”

Vivienne nodded. “Yeah…”

They were among the last to leave the hall, joining those with shocked and pained expressions. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate any comments, kudos or shares. 
> 
> We're off! The game show of death has claimed its first life in this story. Next chapter we'll meet another new contestant, then it's time for Sheryl to start training hard. 
> 
> Please subscribe for updates. Learn more about _The Tower_ on my website at [phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/](http://www.phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/)
> 
> I'm hanging out a lot on tumblr these days at [phoenixwaller.tumblr.com](http://phoenixwaller.tumblr.com). I'm also on plurk and twitter at @phoenixwaller, and my author page on facebook is @JenniferLWaller
> 
> Find my YoI fanfics on my AO3 profile at <http://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixwaller/profile>


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after Anthony Greene's run Sheryl is moved to medical care housing and meets her new roommate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and love on this fic so far. I know I've been bad about responding but I do read and appreciate them. 
> 
> If you've been enjoying this work please click the share button up above and spread the love. Since it's an original work it has no existing fanbase to rely on so word of mouth is how people find out about it. 
> 
> Happy Reading!

Sheryl took a seat in a virtual cafe. A few minutes later first Liam, then Chad, Becky and Janice arrived. 

Becky hugged Sheryl. “Sheryl, how are you doing? Is everything ok on the island?”

Sheryl nodded, noticing a bit of lag in her avatar. “I’m ok. They’re moving me from the hospital to a care center today.”

Janice drummed her fingers on the virtual table. “What’s with the lag?”

Sheryl sighed. “Probably the communication restrictions. Everything outgoing from contestants is monitored.”

Liam made a face, but said nothing. 

“How’s your physical therapy?” Chad asked. 

Sheryl hummed. “Hard, but I can already feel improvement. I’ve got a meeting in the morning, and I’m going to ask that they include some training while I’m still recovering.”

“Why is that?” Liam asked. 

Sheryl smiled. “So I came in on the same transport as Vivienne Dubois…”

“Wait…” Becky demanded. “Vivienne Dubois of Elevate?”

Sheryl nodded. “That’s her.”

“Oh I love those gyms!”

Sheryl blinked. “I didn’t know you were a member.”

“I joined a few months ago. The simulation runs are hard, but what a workout. I try to do one a month since I started going.”

Sheryl chuckled. “Well we were on the same transport and have become friends. We sat together during Greene’s run, and she suggested I do disability training while I’m actually disabled, so that I have a better grasp on the limitations than those who have to fake an injury.”

Chad nodded. “It makes sense.”

“I’m also considering history and strategy classes while my mobility is limited.”

“Marksmanship,” Janice said. 

“Hmm?”

“You don’t need your legs for target practice. I’d suggest getting used to holding and firing the guns they use. Supposedly they’re heavier than normal firearms.”

“Why?”

“A ricochet would be a bad thing in an enclosed space. I read that the bullets are special. They break on impact, but have to be magnetic propelled as they’d break in the gun otherwise. Between the rails and the cooling system, even the handguns are weighty. I don’t think you’ll want to use a rifle, but you should train with one anyway, and plan to run with handguns.”

“You’re… researching? For me?”

Janice nodded. “You tasked us with getting you out. Like hell am I going in with no data.”

“Janice…”

“I’m also looking into that gym Becky’s been going to. I’m trying to find out if the puzzles are up to par. If so I might start making simulation runs too, so that I can help with puzzle challenges.”

Sheryl heard a ding, and a message icon popped up in her periphery. She opened it and saw it was from Vivienne. 

_ Done with training for the day, want help moving? _

Sheryl opened her messaging app.  _ I’m in a virtual cafe with friends, most of whom are my support team. But you might be able to help, we were just discussing the puzzle difficulty of the Elevate simulations. _

_ Oh! Shoot me the address, I’ll join you! _

Sheryl smiled. “Speaking of the puzzles from Elevate, is it ok if Vivienne joins us?”

Becky squealed, while the rest of the table nodded. 

A few seconds later Vivienne’s avatar popped into existence. She waved and strolled over to the table. 

“Hi everybody! I’m Vivienne.”

Sheryl smiled and went around the table introducing her friends before Janice got right down to business. “So Vivienne, how do the puzzles in your simulation runs compare?”

Vivienne grinned. “Most are equivalent to the difficulty of thirty years ago. Things that people could be expected to solve in a reasonable amount of time. The difficulty has increased since then. However, as basics, the ideas are sound. Today’s towers are about solving and moving even faster. While there are harder puzzles, there are also greater numbers of the standard ones.”

“So do you think if I did enough simulation runs I could get an idea of what Sheryl will be against?”

Vivienne put her finger to her lips, “Maybe, but I’d look for concurrent challenge simulations. They’ve not rolled out everywhere, but they’re closer to modern towers.”

“How do you design your puzzle challenges?”

Vivienne laughed and clapped in delight. “Most are direct influences, but I also had a staff of scenario developers for originals.”

Janice leaned forward and rested her chin in her palm. “You have original challenges written?”

Vivienne nodded. “They’re based on traditional tower parameters of course, but people like to feel like they’d have really survived, and since almost every tower has at least one unique challenge it’s a good way to provide that sense of accomplishment.”

Sheryl watched Janice’s eyes light up. 

“Private chat?” Janice asked. 

“Sure!” Vivienne agreed.

Both their avatars continued to move, but developed a gray cast as they switched to private mode. 

“Wow…” Becky sighed. “I can’t believe you’re friends with Vivienne Dubois.She’s practically a star when it comes to tower analysis.”

Sheryl smiled. “I’ve learned a lot from her, that’s for sure.”

Sheryl thought back to the transport, but when the thought of Greene’s boarding crossed her memory she frowned. 

“Sher?” Liam asked, placing a hand on her arm. 

“Sorry… we also came in with Anthony Greene…”

Liam sucked in a breath and Chad frowned. 

“Are you ok?” Liam asked. 

Sheryl nodded. “It was hard yesterday, really hard. He was expected to escape.”

Becky frowned. “Sheryl…”

Sheryl shook her head. “I’m ok guys. It was hard, I won’t lie. But… I think I need to get used to the fact that I’m training with people who will die. It was one of the things that Dr. Lucero stressed when I arrived. He warned us to always keep it in mind.”

Vivienne and Janice came back from their private chat. Janice wore an expression of thoughtful contemplation and Vivienne looked giddy. 

“What were you two talking about?” Sheryl asked. 

Vivienne smiled. “I was describing our analysis process. It’s nothing secret, but most wouldn’t get it. Janice here even gave me some ideas for tweaking it though. I’m so excited to share the thoughts with my team.” She paused. “Oh, yeah…”

Vivienne called up several virtual objects and distributed them around the table. 

Becky squealed in delight when she saw what it was. “Are you serious?”

Sheryl inspected hers to see what Becky was so excited about. “A lifetime membership?”

Vivienne nodded. “Call it a perk of being my friends.”

Sheryl smiled, and saw that even Liam was quickly taking to the bubbly blonde. 

Becky had dropped to the floor and was kowtowing. 

Vivienne laughed. “Get up! You’re friends of Sheryl’s, so you’re friends of mine.”

“It’s an exceedingly generous gift,” Janice stated. 

Vivienne smiled. “I’m the founder, which comes with perks. One of which is that I can do things like this. I did set myself a yearly limit to what I can give out, but I feel you are all worthy.”

“Are you sure?” Janice asked. 

Vivienne rolled her eyes. “Just accept already.”

Janice accepted the object, as did Liam and Chad. 

“Are you sure you want to give me one Vivi?” Sheryl asked. “It’ll be close to a year before I could even use it.”

Vivienne waved her hand. “I’d rather you take it now than me forget to give you one later.”

Sheryl nodded and accepted the virtual object. 

“So…” Vivienne said. “Let’s do something other than talk business. Who’s up for a board game?”

* * *

 

“Remind me never to play strategy games against you again,” Sheryl said as Vivienne rolled her into the care center. “Or at least have you on my team.”

Vivienne laughed. “It wasn’t  _ that _ bad, was it?”

“You won five out of six games, and only lost the sixth because it was Janice and Chad on a team together.”

Vivienne giggled. “Yeah, they were a good challenge.”

Sheryl rolled her eyes. “How close were you to winning?”

“One move.”

“Ok genius, let’s find my new room. One-fifteen I think.”

Vivienne laughed. “Lead the way!” she declared, popping a wheelie with Sheryl’s wheelchair. 

“Vivi!”

Vivienne cackled as she found the wing of the facility that Sheryl’s room was on. 

A minute later they stopped at the extra-wide door and Vivienne pushed Sheryl in. “It looks like I’m in bed A,” Sheryl said. “So… on the left side of the window?”

Both women looked up when the privacy curtain was pulled aside and a slender young man in either his late teens or early twenties stood there sheepishly. He wore jeans and a loose pink t-shirt, dark brown hair tumbled down his back, damp from a recent shower. .

“Hi…” he muttered. “Are… are you my roommate?”

Sheryl and Vivienne shared a glance, then Sheryl nodded. “I think so. Sheryl Callaghan,” she said, sticking out her hand. 

The man smiled shyly, and accepted. “Monica… Monica Gutierrez.”

There was a beat of silence before realization settled over both Sheryl and Vivienne. 

Sheryl smiled brightly at the young woman, and noticed nerve bitten nails on the hand still in her own. “Nice to meet you Monica.”

“I don’t recall seeing you at the gala the other night,” Vivienne said, plopping down onto Sheryl’s bed. “Did you just arrive?”

Monica nodded and started to visibly relax. “I arrived last night.”

Vivienne smiled. “We’re fairly new ourselves. We came in last week.”

“Were you injured in training?” Monica asked, glancing at Sheryl’s wheelchair.

Sheryl laughed. “No. Not that fast anyway. I was in a coma for six months. I’m in physical therapy to rebuild my muscles.”

“Oh.”

“Your turn!” Vivienne replied. “Where are you from?”

Monica blinked. “Oh… ummm… Sorry, that’s not the question I expected. I’m from southern California, near the Mexican border. My family has lived there for generations.” She paused, “Who are you?”

“Vivienne Dubois. It’s a pleasure.” She reached over and shook Monica’s hand. “So why do they have you in the medical care facility? You look healthy enough.”

Monica blushed. “I’m… I’m in pre-surgery evaluation.”

“Oh… I’m sorry,” Vivienne replied, biting her lip. “I guess that was too personal.”

Monica shook her head then crossed one arm across herself and grabbed the other arm in a closed-off stance. “No, it’s fine. I’m just… I’m just not feeling like myself at the moment. I just got out of the shower so don’t have my makeup on yet.”

Sheryl frowned. “We’ll back off if you want. We don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Can I have a few minutes to fix my makeup?”

“Of course,” Sheryl replied. “Take all the time you need.”

Monica stepped behind the privacy curtain and closed it. 

Vivienne grabbed a box from Sheryl’s lap. “Let’s get your clothes in the closet.”

They put away Sheryl’s clothes, and arranged the few mementos she’d brought along the top of a dresser. They were chatting about training tactics when Monica pulled aside the curtain again. Her hair rested in loose waves, while careful contouring gave her face a new look. She’d also added a padded bra under a red tank top. 

“Feel better?” Sheryl asked. 

Monica nodded shyly. 

“Never be afraid to ask for what you need around me, ok?”

Monica smiled. 

“Come over here!” Vivienne said, patting Sheryl’s bed. 

Monica hesitated then moved over. “Are you sure?”

Vivienne nodded. “Of course! We were discussing training, I’m sure you’ve got ideas on that too.”

Monica perched carefully on the edge of Sheryl’s bed. 

“So have you had a chance to explore the training facilities?” Vivienne asked. 

Monica shook her head. “I peeked in at the run yesterday, and by the time I left it was getting dark. I didn’t want to get lost since I don’t know where everything is yet.”

“That’s ok,” Sheryl said. “I haven’t seen any either. This is my first day out of the hospital. They had to authorize me going to the gala and the run observation.”

“Can I play tour guide tomorrow?” Vivienne begged. 

“It’s fine by me,” Sheryl replied. “Monica?”

“Can I sleep on it?”

Vivienne nodded. “No problem. I have training in the morning anyway. Just let me know when I pick Sheryl up after lunch if you want to come with.”

“I might have meetings too,” she murmured. “I don’t know my schedule.”

Vivienne bit her lip again and leaned back slightly. “Sorry... I know I can be a bit much. I promise I won’t be offended if you tell me so. I don’t want you to ever feel like I’m pressuring you. Ok?”

Monica nodded. “I… I appreciate you trying. It’s just all kinda overwhelming for me right now. I got the card 3 days ago, and now I’m here and it’s not all real yet.”

Sheryl reached out and patted the young woman’s hand. “I understand the sentiment. It’s still unreal for me too.”

Monica looked up, gratitude in her soft brown eyes. 

“I have an idea,” Sheryl said after a minute. 

“Hmm?” Monica asked at the same time Vivienne cried, “What is it?”

“Vivi, there’s a nail kit in the top drawer of the dresser. Liam made sure to save it because he knew how much it meant. How about I do both of your nails?”

Vivienne grinned. 

Monica examined her short nails. “Are you sure? I don’t want your work to go to waste.”

Sheryl laughed. “That’s the great thing about nail art, it’s meant to be temporary. If it chips or gets damaged we’ll remove it and do something new. Besides, I find it relaxing, and I get to make other ladies look and feel good. Plus, I have a color that’ll look great with that top.”

Monica smiled softly, opening up. “Ok… I think I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate any comments, kudos or shares. 
> 
> Yay! I'm excited for Monica, because she really balances out Vivienne and Sheryl's dynamic. Let me know what you think of her in the comments. 
> 
> Please subscribe for updates. Learn more about _The Tower_ on my website at [phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/](http://www.phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/)
> 
> I'm hanging out a lot on tumblr these days at [phoenixwaller.tumblr.com](http://phoenixwaller.tumblr.com). I'm also on plurk and twitter at @phoenixwaller, and my author page on facebook is @JenniferLWaller


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheryl gets her first taste of training, then we learn more about Monica

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your support and comments so far, I know I've not been replying very well but I've read and appreciate them all. 
> 
> If you've been enjoying this work please click the share button up above and spread the love. 
> 
> Happy Reading!

Sweat poured down Sheryl’s face. Her arms burned, and her legs felt raw from being dragged, despite the pants she wore. 

Sheryl reached up, grabbed another knot on the rope and pulled, easing herself a few more inches up the ramp. After what felt like an eternity she reached the platform and pulled herself onto it. She rested, breathing heavily before using the rope to pull herself over to a button. She dropped her hand onto it, and a buzzer sounded. 

“Forty-five minutes,” a trainer declared. “Better than I expected, all things considered.”

“What do you mean?” Sheryl panted. 

“Your arms are stronger than your legs for sure, but they’re far from fully recovered. How often did you use them to drag around your full body weight before? I expected you to make it no farther than halfway,” the trainer replied. 

Sheryl stared up at the ceiling. “I didn’t know quitting halfway was an option. It won’t be for my run.”

The trainer chuckled. “An interesting way to look at it. Either way, you’re done for the day. I’ll let your physical therapy team know how you did. They’ll probably focus on gentle exercises considering the strain you put yourself under.”

Sheryl nodded and closed her eyes, the cool of the platform refreshing against her sweat drenched back.

The trainer made a few notes, then helped her back into her wheelchair. “Should I call somebody?” he asked. “You probably don’t want to strain your arms any further.”

Sheryl considered refusing, then nodded. She still had physical therapy ahead of her and already wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed.  

At least the therapy pool would feel good. 

The trainer paused for a minute as he put in the request, then turned to Sheryl again. “I agree that disability training would benefit you more now than later, but you’re still too early in your recovery for it to be regular. I’m going to schedule your next session for two weeks from now. I’d prefer a bit more muscle mass on your legs to assist since you’ll be making an able-bodied run.”

Sheryl bit her lip. “But what if I’m injured?”

He shook his head. “Injured doesn’t mean gone. You’re not going to lose your legs. Even if you’re moving with semi-repaired bones you’ll probably have the help of the other leg. I think we can really start this training once you’re able to make it from one end of the parallel bars to the other without assistance.”

Sheryl grimaced. “Ok.”

The trainer sighed. “I can schedule more, but I don’t want to overexert you so much that it impacts your recovery. I’ll see you again in two weeks, then we can reevaluate.”

“Ok.”

A few minutes later an orderly wheeled her a few buildings down into the physical therapy and diagnostic center. Sheryl changed, but was surprised to see Monica in the pool, sensors attached to her as she moved. 

“Monica?”

Monica startled, then smiled shyly. “Hi Sheryl.”

“Is this part of your evaluation?”

Monica nodded. “They need a lot of physical data before surgery. They had me on a treadmill earlier.”

“Seems like a lot.”

Monica shook her head. “Not for what I need.”

Sheryl hesitated, and bit her lip. “I… I don’t want to pry, so please feel free to refuse if this is too personal, but you’re not here for cosmetic surgery, are you?”

Monica climbed out of the pool and sat on the side as an orderly helped Sheryl in. 

“No. They’ll be doing some cosmetic work at the same time, but I can’t even start the rigorous training without surgery. It could kill me.”

Sheryl’s eyes widened. 

Monica dangled a foot into the water, swinging it lazily. “I was born with a serious heart defect. They were able to do enough repairs to keep me alive, but it was always known that I’d need another procedure once I’d reached adulthood. At the time minors with major disease were exempt from the lifetime caps on insurance, and my parents were planning to get my final procedure done just before I turned eighteen. They wanted me to have my full lifetime limit as an adult.”

“Then the new insurance laws eight years ago…”

Monica nodded. “I was part of that strange group that they decided had been promised too long, but not long enough to be exempt from the changes: over ten, but under fourteen. Instead of having my full lifetime cap available, the surgeries that saved my life as an infant took half my limit.”

She sighed. “Even if I’d had the full cap, there would have been barely any left for emergencies. With half the cap gone my life was always going to be at risk. I couldn’t do anything… not even the hormone therapy or cosmetic procedures that would have made other things in my life easier.”

“Oh sweetie…”

Monica shook her head. “I’d… I’d sort of gotten used to the idea that I’d have to make do. Don’t overexert myself, don’t strain my heart. Makeup and clothing to express my true self. I… I think that’s why I accepted this without deliberation. They promised to fix my heart, and to give me the other therapies I’d thought I’d never have. I could have everything I’d wanted… I just have to live. Even if I die, I’ll die as  _ me. _ Me, with the full potential of what I could be, for the first time in my life.”

“I’d hug you if I could stand right now.”

Monica smiled and hopped back into the pool for her hug. 

“You know you’re always you, right?”

Monica nodded into Sheryl’s shoulder. “I know, but this is the way I’ve wanted to present myself for years: with a heart that works properly. I’ll be able to do things I’ve never done before. The other surgeries and therapies are almost like icing in comparison.”

The therapist came in and started guiding Sheryl through her exercises. Monica moved back to the edge of the pool after confirming that it was ok to stay. 

“It was weird growing up,” Monica said. “All the kids around me would always argue about who would be selected for a tower run among them. The kids who played sports touted their strength or stamina, while the smart kids would try to reason that the puzzles were the more challenging parts. A few times they tried to ask me, but the concept felt foreign. I’d never be selected. I’m ok with puzzles, but the physical exertion and stamina… I’d never have that. That’s what I thought anyway.”

“Do any of them know you’re here?”

Monica laughed. “No. A few family members is all I told. I don’t even have a proper support team yet. My mom will be here for me, that I know. But my father has already said that he wants to be in church that day so that he can pray for me. He’s a devout man, so if that’s how he wants to support me then that’s how he will. 

“I’ve got time to think about it though. The doctors don’t think I can start serious training until three months or so after surgery, when my heart will be healed enough to take the strain. Then they figure at least another three months, maybe longer, of training for the run itself. At minimum they expect me here for seven or eight months.” 

Sheryl nodded. “We’re on similar timelines. I’ve been told I’ll be in medical care housing until I can get in and out of the wheelchair on my own, and can walk unassisted for ten minutes. They think a month or two just for that. They think after three months I should be able to walk short distances on my own and will no longer need the wheelchair. But…”

The therapist spoke up. “It’ll probably be six months before you can start the intense training. And you’ll be in it longer since your baseline will be lower.”

Sheryl nodded. “I’ve been told I’ll be near the end of the season.”

“What about Vivienne?” Monica asked. “She’s extremely fit and ran simulations regularly.”

“She’s teaching a class while a regular staff member is on maternity leave. They bumped her from early season to late. Otherwise she’d have been on a three month training track.”

Monica smiled. “So we’ll all be here together for a while?”

Sheryl nodded.

* * *

 

“Come on, you got it, you got it, you got it…” Sheryl urged as she and Monica watched Vivienne make a four-story simulation run. 

Vivienne grabbed a ledge and hoisted herself up and over a divider. She rolled her landing, looked for dangers and slammed her hand down on the buzzer. 

The doors opened, and Vivienne strolled out to meet them. Monica handed her a towel, which she used to wipe the sweat from her face. 

“That was a good workout!” Vivienne grinned. 

“You’re not feeling it at all, are you?” Sheryl teased. 

Vivienne shook her head. “Not at four stories.”

Monica shook her head and looked at the clock on the wall. “One hour, ten minutes.”

Vivienne made a face. “Damn, I need to shave off another five at least.”

“Seems like good time to me,” Monica replied. “You had ten minutes left on green.”

Vivienne shook her head. “Remember, there’s more to a real run than just the puzzles and obstacles. You’re going to be looking for money and prizes too. Granted, a lot of that happens at the same time, but don’t ever discount those few extra minutes. I’d personally like to be at fifteen minutes per floor on escape, and five on prizes.”

“Really?”

Vivienne nodded. “If you plan in your prize time, and train with it in mind, then if you get behind you can ditch the prize hunt in favor of living. If you tell yourself you have twenty minutes per floor during training, then you run the risk of forgetting the prize time it when it matters.”

Monica took a deep breath and released it slowly. 

“You ok?” Sheryl asked. 

Monica nodded. “Just reminding myself that I can do this.”

Sheryl smiled. “Yes, you can.”

Vivienne tossed an arm over each of their shoulders. “We all can. Now, how shall we spend the rest of our afternoon? I heard about a great little cafe down in the town.”

Both Sheryl and Monica nodded. 

“I think getting away from the core for a bit sounds perfect,” Sheryl replied. 

“Great!” Vivienne declared. “I’ll call for a cart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week, it's time for another tower run with the trio observing. 
> 
> Please subscribe for updates. Learn more about _The Tower_ on my website at [phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/](http://www.phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/)
> 
> I'm hanging out a lot on tumblr these days at [phoenixwaller.tumblr.com](http://phoenixwaller.tumblr.com). I'm also on plurk and twitter at @phoenixwaller, and my author page on facebook is @JenniferLWaller


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheryl joins Vivienne and Monica for another observation of a run. This week, a fan favorite who has a love of dad jokes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for another tower run! Will today's contestant escape or be trapped in the collapse?
> 
> If you've been enjoying this work please click the share button up above and spread the love. 
> 
> Happy Reading!

Monica, Vivienne and Sheryl made their way to a table in the hall. A timer on the screen counted down to the start of the run. 

Excited chatter drifted among their fellow contestants, and Vivienne grinned as they discussed the man about to run his tower. 

“The mood is so different from last week,” Sheryl observed. 

“Clint Masterson is running today,” Vivienne explained. 

“Clint Masterson?”

Vivienne nodded as she set down her plate. “I only met him once before he moved to support training, but he’s been a fan favorite the past few months. He’s expected to escape, and is currently sitting on a sixty-five percent.”

“Currently?” Monica asked. 

Vivienne tapped her lips with her index finger. “When he came in it was at thirty-five. But he worked hard and it came up, and it came up even more as he gained fans. He’s such a lovable guy.”

“Ok,” Sheryl sighed. “Fill me in.”

“Oh, yeah…” Vivienne mused. She was quiet for a few minutes then began. “So Masterson is at the upper age range for contestants. He’s in his mid-fifties, but in great shape. He’s a widower, and has several adult children. I think there’s a grandchild on the way too.”

“Ok…” Sheryl replied. 

“I think one of the reasons he became such a favorite right away was because he quickly adopted the role of contestant dad,” Vivienne laughed. “Most of the contestants are around the same ages as his children, so fatherly advice followed him everywhere. That and dad jokes, in all the coverage it was never clear if one would get advice or a dad joke.” 

Sheryl smiled. 

“His dad jokes were the worst,” Monica complained. “Every one was a groaner.”

“Aren’t all dad jokes bad?” Vivienne argued. 

“Point,” Monica conceded. 

“G’morning ladies,” a warm male voice said. “May I join you again?”

Sheryl looked up to see Siyabonga standing beside the table. She nodded and saw that both Monica and Vivienne were shifting to make room. 

Siyabonga set his plate on the table then smiled at Monica. 

“I met Sheryl and Vivienne last week, but you seem a new face. Siyabonga Naidoo,” he said, offering a hand. 

Monica seemed hesitant before finally returning the gesture. “M… Monica. Monica Gutierrez.”

He blinked a couple times before responding. “It’s a pleasure.” He then turned to his food and knelt his head in prayer.

There was a moment of silence around the table before Monica shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe I should go…”

Siyabonga looked up. “Is something wrong?”

“I… umm…” she looked away. “I just don’t want to make anybody uncomfortable.”

Siyabonga blinked. “Who’s uncomfortable?”

Monica blushed slightly. “You seem religious, and while people in the US and Europe are more comfortable with people like me, I know that many people in other countries aren’t yet… especially the devout.”

Siyabonga’s eyes widened. He reached out and placed a comforting hand on Monica’s wrist. He shook his head. “Stay child. I assure you that you’re causing me no discomfort.”

“You… don’t disapprove?” she asked timidly. 

He shook his head again. “I believe in the Lord, and that he makes no mistakes. Some might interpret his divinity another way, but I believe that he created you with your unique challenges in mind. If I were disapprove of you as a person I would be disapproving of the Lord’s work.”

Monica softened visibly. “Thank you.”

He smiled. “Now that that’s settled, how are you adjusting to life on the island?”

Monica smiled shyly. “It’s been surreal.”

Siyabonga laughed. “That feeling never goes away, at least it hasn’t for me.”

A chuckle passed over the table, then the sound system came alive with the theme music. 

They turned to the screen, as the camera panned in to where Clay Grayson stood next to the man Sheryl assumed was Clint Masterson. 

“Clint Masterson!” Clay exclaimed. “You’ve quickly become a fan favorite, and today’s your big day. Do you have anything to say?”

Clint grinned. “Clay, I’ve been terrified of elevators all my life.”

Half the hall groaned in anticipation. 

“Luckily I won’t have to take great steps to avoid them today,” he concluded. 

The other half of the hall finished the groan. 

Clay chuckled. “Good to hear Clint. So who is here on your support team?”

Clint introduced his very pregnant daughter, his best friend from college and somebody he’d worked with.

Clay was leading Clint to the helicopter when the man stopped. 

“Is something wrong?” Clay asked, and the hall fell silent. 

“I think there’s something in my shoe,” Clint replied, then followed immediately with. “Oh, nevermind, it’s just a foot!”

Another groan then he boarded the helicopter. 

Clint’s entry timer started as soon as the helicopter had completed one full circuit of his tower. The walls rose to a point, and his entry was a hole on one of the slopes. He checked his gear, climbed down a ladder lowered from the helicopter and managed to wriggle into the hole in decent time. He quickly figured out the rest of the entry, and was then inside, faced immediately with what appeared to be a maze level. 

Clint grinned, pulled out a gun, told another corny joke then started moving. 

“We’re trying to figure out how much time he’ll have left when he escapes,” Siyabonga said, turning to Vivienne. “What do you think?”

“Clint will play it safe,” Vivienne replied. “At least from what I’ve seen. Also, he’s said his goal isn’t money for him, but for his family and grandchildren. So I don’t think he’ll takes risks with time. If he can find a good timer I think at least half an hour. If he finds no extensions I’ll say he’ll leave ten minutes on the clock so he can be safely free of the fall-zone.”

Siyabonga nodded and turned to Monica. “What do you think?”

Monica hummed. “I agree. I think he’s out with at least five minutes left.”

“Sheryl?” Siyabonga asked. 

Sheryl shook her head. “Sorry… I just don’t know enough about him to hazard a guess.”

Siyabonga nodded and turned his attention to the screen. “The island will feel different without him. He’s been a role model for so many. He’s kept his spirits up, even when the odds had him failing.”

“Speaking of things being different,” Vivienne said. “Rumor has it that you’ve been assigned your run date as well.”

Siyabonga nodded. “Assuming I’m not injured, I will run in three weeks.”

“Wow…” Sheryl breathed. “So soon?”

He nodded. “I’ll have been here five months by that time. It’s a relatively normal training period.”

Sheryl sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “Sorry, still catching up on so many things.”

He smiled. “I can’t imagine how hard it is.”

She smiled and was about to say something when a cheer went through the hall. Clint had cleared the floor with time to spare. 

Siyabonga once again mingled after breakfast, and several other contestants stopped by their table to chat.

Monica slowly opened up, realizing that the thing that bound them together as contestants was stronger than preconceived notions that might have forced her to the sidelines before. By the time lunch started she’d started laughing and smiling with genuine emotion. 

Clint had been in the tower for five hours when he found a two-hour timer extension. A cheer filled the room. He had already been ahead of the pace, and the extension allowed him to slow down and find more money and prizes for his family. 

Another competitor was at the table and smiled. “I remember something Clint said when we were at the shooting range together,” the middle-aged woman said. “He said that even if you walked away from the tower without a single dollar or prize, you’d still be well-off for the rest of your life. Endorsements, appearances, your life story, your image… they’re all commodities that a contestant who survives walks away with. It looks like he took it to heart.”

Vivienne laughed. “To be fair, he’s picked up his share of money vouchers and prizes.”

The woman nodded. “True, but he’s spent a fraction of the time searching for them when compared with others. He didn’t get greedy in the moment, and he’s going to survive.”

Vivienne nodded. “The only thing that’ll keep him from escaping now is a major injury.”

The hall stayed full, everybody’s attention glued to the screen as Clint methodically descended the levels. He spent more time hunting for money and prizes but regularly checked in with his support team for time remaining, and told them to let him know if he spent too much time on any single level. 

Everybody knew that he was practically assured of escape when he found a half-hour extension on the fourth floor with almost two hours left on the clock. 

Clint sauntered out, grin on his face, with twenty minutes left. As soon as a cart pulled in front of the support building he jumped off and ran to his daughter. He hugged her, reached into his run bag and removed a necklace. He put it on her, while a chyron listed the retail value in the tens of thousands of dollars. He then retrieved a baby outfit he’d snagged on another floor and draped it over her stomach, making her laugh even as another chyron set the tiny dress at luxury clothing prices. 

The contestants in the hall whooped and hollered their approval. 

“He talked all the time about the new grandbaby,” Vivienne explained. “But refused to tell anybody the gender. He said he’d announce it after he escaped.”

Sheryl smiled, then held her fist to her mouth as she thought of Benny and how excited Jonathan had been when he’d done something similar with the boy’s first outfit. 

“You ok?” Monica asked. 

Sheryl squeezed her eyes and nodded. “I… uh…”

A tear rolled down Sheryl’s cheek. 

She was moving, Vivienne’s voice behind her pushing the chair. Then they were in the lobby outside the hall. 

Vivienne knelt in front of Sheryl and handed her a kerchief. Monica looked worried and stood several feet away. 

“Is it ok I got you out of there?” Vivienne asked quietly. 

Sheryl nodded. “Thank you. I… Benny!” Sheryl started sobbing. 

Vivienne stood and wrapped her arms around Sheryl’s shoulders. Monica took a few cautious steps closer then laid her hand on Sheryl’s shoulder. 

“I called a cart,” Vivienne said after a minute. “I’ve heard there will be a party tonight, but I have the feeling you’re not up for it.”

Sheryl nodded. “Thank you.”

Vivienne hugged her again. “Anything for my friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate any comments, kudos or shares. 
> 
> Everybody's almost settled into a routine on the island, so after the next chapter things will speed up and will transition to focus more on training and recovery. 
> 
> Please subscribe for updates. Learn more about _The Tower_ on my website at [phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/](http://www.phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/)
> 
> I'm hanging out a lot on tumblr these days at [phoenixwaller.tumblr.com](http://phoenixwaller.tumblr.com). I'm also on plurk and twitter at @phoenixwaller, and my author page on facebook is @JenniferLWaller


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vivienne shares details of her past while she and Sheryl await the results of Monica's heart surgery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected Vivienne chapter! But I think it adds a good bit of depth to her character :-)
> 
> If you've been enjoying this work please click the share button up above and spread the love. Original fics need love and word of mouth to grow. 
> 
> Happy Reading!

Sheryl and Vivienne sat in the waiting room in the hospital’s surgical wing. Monica had been in surgery for several hours and there had been no word since a nurse had come out to tell them that the flaw in her heart had been located and was larger than doctors originally thought. 

Sheryl glanced over to where Vivienne sat. The blonde was uncharacteristically quiet, staring at the floor and fidgeting. 

“You ok?” Sheryl asked, moving her chair over to the best of her ability. 

Vivienne looked up with a nervous smile. “I… I don’t do well when I’m worried about my friends.”

Sheryl chuckled. “You know, you might be in the wrong place for that to be an issue. We’re all facing the possibility of death within the year.”

Vivienne huffed. “I know…” She chewed on her bottom lip and was quiet for several minutes before speaking again. “I… I’ve always made friends easily, even when I was the genius kid almost a decade younger than my classmates in college. But…”

Sheryl waited for the other woman to gather her thoughts. 

“Because I was so much younger, I watched them all go through things in life that still seemed so distant for me. I had friends in college getting married, and I wasn’t even old enough to date. A part of me was happy to see them thrive, but at the same time so much of it was foreign to my own experiences..”

Vivienne paused again. “Maybe it’s better when kids learn with their peers. There’s an insulation that comes with the bubble of youth. Because I made friends with the people around me, there weren’t many my own age. I was a kid watching all my friends have very adult problems.”

Sheryl reached out for Vivienne’s hand. 

Vivienne smiled then her eyes developed a distant cast again. “David was my best friend, even though he was nine years older than me. We met in one of my first college classes. 

“I was twelve and my parents had enrolled me in only two classes to see if I was up to the change from high school, or if I needed private tutoring. Because it was a test I was only allowed to take humanities or elective classes. He was a senior, in his final year and filling in the last required electives to round out his degree. He was kind and funny, and was the first person there who didn’t mind that I was just a kid.

“We stayed close even after he graduated. Whenever somebody would question my presence he’d just introduce me as his kid sister and glare at anybody who tried to make an issue of it. We had one of those friendships where people knew to watch out if we began scheming. Despite the age difference it was never weird between us, even if others didn’t understand.

“I watched him fall in love with a girl named Jackie, and I stood with the groomsmen during his wedding. I was one of the first people outside immediate family that was allowed to hold his baby girl, Alyssa. 

“I was fifteen when Alyssa got sick, she was about seven months old at the time. It all seemed so fast. One day she was a vibrant, laughing baby, the next pale and gaunt, stuck with needles attached to tubes. The doctors said it was a foodborne illness. The older kids and adults managed to pull through for the most part, but she was too young and didn’t have the strength to fight it.”

“Vivi…”

Vivienne turned her eyes to Sheryl and smiled, then returned her gaze to the floor.

“David’s marriage fell apart after that. Jackie lost her job because she’d spent three weeks in the hospital with baby Alyssa, and finances were strained. Then she left. The note said that every time she looked at him she was reminded of their daughter.”

Vivienne shuddered. “David never recovered. He’d lost his baby, and the love of his life. I… I tried to help, but I was still just a kid. Then… the vultures set in…”

“Vultures?”

“Sorry… lawyers, specifically the class action and wrongful death ones. The other victims were already taking the company to court. I mean, really, what choice did they have? Treatment was expensive, and if the medical expenses weren’t paid then most of them would have blown through their lifetime cap. But they all, victims and lawyers alike, wanted David on the case, not only was baby Alyssa dead, but his marriage was ruined too. Stuff like that was pure gold in a trial. The only thing he and Jackie had done was give age-appropriate fruit to their baby. Unlike the other deaths, she hadn’t been immune compromised or otherwise sick. She was just young.”

Vivienne gripped the armrest of her chair until her knuckles were white. “They wouldn’t let up. He got so many calls a day that eventually he filtered all incoming communication. They even went so far as to spoof details from friends and family to get him to answer. We were all given specific instructions on how to call so he’d know it was really somebody he trusted.”

“That’s horrible!”

Vivienne nodded. “Eventually the other victims converged around one legal team, David and Jackie were persuaded to join as independent parties. Because their marriage had ended over Alyssa’s death, they were regarded as separate victims.”

Vivienne chewed on her lower lip. “I… I look back and I’m pretty sure he’d already made his decision. I was trying so hard to help, but I didn’t see the signs.”

“The company knew better than to go to trial once David and Jackie were on board. A dead baby and a shattered marriage would immediately be used to pull on the heartstrings of jurors. A settlement was the far cheaper option. Once the decision was made the case proceeded quickly.”

Sheryl reached out and pulled Vivienne against her as best she could. 

Vivienne started sobbing against Sheryl’s chest. “It was a week after the settlement was finalized and the victims were paid that David died.. 

“During that week David set his affairs in order. I never knew. He had his will drawn up, informed his landlord that the apartment would be available, put in notice at his job. He even sat in on the first round of interviews for his replacement.”

Vivienne took a shuddering breath. “I wasn’t supposed to see him that day. He’d made vague promises of ‘another time’ or just deferred my attempts to spend time with him. But I was worried. My best friend was hurting, and I needed to be there for him. I ditched classes and went to his apartment.

“Everything seemed so calm when I got there. The apartment was clean, the book he’d been reading open on the couch… He loved physical books... But the pallor over his face when he saw me at the door… He told me to leave, that I couldn’t be there. I argued. I missed my best friend.

“I had no way of knowing he’d already taken a lethal dose of some kind of medication. They never disclosed which one. He was adamant that I leave, then the stress of fighting got to him. He… started convulsing, then collapsed in my arms. By the time emergency responders arrived it was too late.”

“Vivi…”

Vivienne shook her head against Sheryl’s chest. “I missed the signs, and I took away his peaceful death by fighting about why I had to stay. When investigators got to the bedroom they found it was ready for him, a photo of Alyssa and Jackie on the pillow next to his, and a letter of apology.”

Sheryl ran her hand up and down Vivienne’s back. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Vivienne fisted Sheryl’s shirt, crying before finally admitting a soft, “I know…”

They sat there until Vivienne’s crying slowed. 

“David… we weren’t family, but he treated me like it. I found out after the funeral that he’d included me in his will. He gave a small amount of his part of the settlement to his parents, almost a twenty-percent to me, and the rest… the rest he gave to Jackie. He… he never stopped loving her, even after she left.”

Vivienne tightened her fists in Sheryl’s shirt again. “Sher… in his will... he said he wanted me to live my dream. That’s why he gave me so much. I’d done the math, I knew what it would take to get Elevate through those crucial first two years. That’s what he left me. Elevate is David’s legacy.”

“Vivi…”

Vivienne shook her head and sat up. She walked over to where there was a box of tissue on a wall and pulled several squares free. She dabbed her eyes before returning to her seat. 

“I’d missed all the signs, and I couldn’t help him when he needed it,” Vivienne continued. “After he died I had a hard time. I was paranoid that the people close to me were hurting, and that I was blind to their pain. For a while I contacted everybody I knew almost daily, checking in on them. I couldn’t handle losing anybody else. 

“Therapy helped. I was in counseling through last year. I finally learned to accept that it wasn’t my fault that I couldn’t help. But… whenever I get worried about friends I remember the sleepless nights, when I was helpless to prevent tragedy. I was so worried about him, and in the end all I could do was watch him die. All the old fears come back, and I’m that sixteen year old losing her best friend all over again.”

“Oh Vivi…”

Vivienne smiled weakly. “Sorry for unloading all that on you.”

Sheryl shook her head. “Seems like it was something you needed to do.”

Vivienne nodded. “Thanks for listening Sheryl.”

“Anytime.”

Vivienne dried her eyes, then walked to toss her tissues in a nearby wastebin. She’d just taken a seat again when the doctor walked into the room. 

Both Vivienne and Sheryl immediately perked up. “How is she?” Sheryl asked. 

The doctor smiled. “She’s out of surgery, and once she recovers she’ll be able to begin training for her run. Her heart will be as strong as anybody else’s, if not stronger.”

Vivienne relaxed against Sheryl. “Thank goodness.”

“She’ll be weak for the first few days, and swollen. We’ve still got some cosmetic work to do, but we laid the groundwork for that. She should be able to return to the care center in a few days, after some observation.”

“Can we see her?”

The doctor hummed, then nodded. “For a few minutes. She needs to rest, but I bet she’d appreciate a moment with friends.”

He led the way to the recovery room. 

“Hey,” Sheryl said when Monica opened her eyes.

“Hi,” Monica croaked in a whisper. “What’s the verdict?”

Vivienne walked to the other side of the bed and took Monica’s hand. “The doctor said you’re going to have a wonderful run.”

Monica smiled. “My heart;s better?”

Sheryl nodded. “They fixed it. You’re going to live a long life after you escape, with a healthy heart.”

Monica closed her eyes. “A healthy heart…” A tear slid down her cheek. “It’s a dream come true.”

“The first of many,” Sheryl said, squeezing Monica’s hand even as the young woman drifted into sleep.

Sheryl turned toward Vivienne. “You doing ok?”

Vivienne nodded and wiped her eyes. “She’s going to be ok.”

Sheryl nodded. “She is. We all are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please subscribe for updates. Learn more about _The Tower_ on my website at [phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/](http://www.phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/)
> 
> I'm hanging out a lot on tumblr these days at [phoenixwaller.tumblr.com](http://phoenixwaller.tumblr.com). I'm also on plurk and twitter at @phoenixwaller, and my author page on facebook is @JenniferLWaller


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Monica's heart surgery out of the way the trio turns to preparation and finding a rhythm to life on the island.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being away so long. I got behind on my fic [_Empty Ice_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12507156) and had to devote some time exclusively to it. Now that it's posted I can spread my writing around a bit again. 
> 
> If you've been enjoying this work please click the share button up above and spread the love. 
> 
> Happy Reading!

Sheryl fidgeted as she waited for the work placement manager to call her into the office. She’d decided to take a job on the island, and was scheduled for an interview. She’d learned from others that for the most part only menial jobs were assigned, but once in a while they could use a specific skill set such as with Vivienne. 

A man a few years older than Sheryl stepped out of the office with a polite smile on his face. He held out his hand but Sheryl couldn’t miss the way his eyes flicked to the wheelchair and back to her face. 

“Hello Sheryl, My name is Evan Williams, and I’m in charge of contestant job placement. I’ve looked over your previous work history and I didn’t find any matches in our current system. We don’t see a lot of turnover there.”

Sheryl nodded. “I was expecting that. I’m not too particular, I know with limited mobility my options are fewer.”

Evan smiled. “I think we’ll find something. Often people want to only do what they were doing before they came here, and while we try to keep opportunities open we need consistent staffing for most positions.”

Sheryl nodded. “When I arrived the cart driver mentioned runner positions.”

Evan beamed. “If you’re willing, one just opened up. This weekend’s contestant just made the move to the final prep stage. When that happens everybody underneath them moves up one spot. So we do have a first level runner open.”

“He said you have carts?”

Evan nodded. “We’d work with your therapy schedule, and assign you to the production tower. There are carts for use, and those with mobility impairments have priority of their use. Though it’s rare that you’d have to wait. Most contestants use their shifts for endurance building once they are recovered enough for walking.”

Sheryl blinked then nodded. “I guess that does make sense.”

Evan stilled, then turned to grab something from his desk. He handed Sheryl a stack of papers. “If you’re willing to be a runner then I can get you started this week. I don’t have anybody waiting for runner positions.”

“Really?”

Evan shrugged. “It’s not a glamorous job, most of the contestant employees would rather work as assistants under skill trainers. Many don’t work at all and rely on sponsorships instead.”

Sheryl glanced at the papers. 

“Standard contract stuff,” Evan explained. “Pay, expectations, and the like. Take a look, and if you take the position I’ll need the hard copies on file.”

Sheryl nodded, then paused. “I noticed that with the legal department it was all physical copies as well. Aren’t electronic forms standard?”

Evan shook his head. “Not for the legal stuff here. Considering the… uh… nature of the show… The lawyers insist on something that cannot be digitally forged or altered.”

Sheryl thought about it for a moment. “I guess that makes sense.”

Evan smiled. “I hear that question a lot. It’s a holdover from the early days of the show when families tried to sue after their loved ones perished. Now it’s a matter of making sure there are no loose ends, even when everybody is aware of the stakes.”

Sheryl nodded. “I understand.”

“Great. Look everything over, and let me know if you have any questions. You can turn that paperwork in to me or to legal, and once it’s processed we’ll have the supervisor get you on the schedule. If you decide it’s not for you after all let me know and we’ll get you on a waiting list for another position.”

Sheryl smiled. “Thank you.”

* * *

 

Sheryl pulled, straining to lift herself back into her wheelchair. She thought she almost had it when her leg slipped out from under her again and sent her tumbling back to the floor. 

Sheryl banged her fist on the seat, panting from exertion. 

“Sheryl!”

Monica rushed over and knelt at Sheryl’s side. “Sheryl, are you ok? What happened?”

Sheryl sighed. “I was reaching for my makeup bag, but I forgot to set the locks on the wheels. The chair rolled and I tumbled.

Monica turned to the chest of drawers that Sheryl’s makeup bag was on top of and scowled. She turned and placed her fingers on the side of Sheryl’s chin, turning her face. 

“You hit your head on the way down, didn’t you?”

Sheryl sighed and nodded. 

Monica stared for another few seconds, then slid her arms under Sheryl’s and started lifting. 

“Monica! What are you doing?”

“Helping you into your chair.”

“Put me down! You know you’re not supposed to lift anything over ten pounds yet.”

Monica grumbled and put Sheryl back down. “Fine. I’ll get a nurse. And I’ll have them bring ice.” She paused. “You’re going to have a nasty bruise.”

Sheryl nodded. “Thank you.”

Monica walked out of the room, returning a few minutes later with a nurse. They helped Sheryl back into her wheelchair, then Monica handed over an ice pack. 

Sheryl pressed the ice to the sore spot on her face. 

“Why were you trying to get to your makeup anyway?” Monica asked. “There’s no event scheduled that I know of.”

“I was supposed to go to the production tower for my job orientation today.”

Monica smiled, then laughed. “You know half the people working there don’t bother, and the few contestants I’ve seen always look like they’ve just come from training. I don’t think it matters here.”

Sheryl blushed. “It’s habit.”

“Well there’s no way you’re covering that bruise with makeup.”

Sheryl sighed. 

“Do I need to call the production tower to reschedule your orientation?”

Sheryl shook her head. “I’ll go. I’ve still got enough time to get there.”

“Want me to come with you?”

Sheryl shook her head. “No. Thank you. I’ll be fine.”

“Want me to rig up a seatbelt?”

Sheryl gaped, then burst into laughter. “I might take you up on that if this happens again.”

Monica smiled. “I’ll call for a cart while you finish getting ready.”

* * *

 

“Good afternoon Sheryl, I’m Diana Jacobson.” A middle aged woman held out her hand. 

Sheryl returned the gesture, trying to angle the large bruise away from her new boss.

“Don’t worry about a bruise or two,” the woman said offhandedly. “It won’t be the last time you come to work sporting one, I can assure you. Probably not even the last time there’s one on your face. You’re going to be in rigorous training. Everybody here is used to the bumps and bruises that come with that. The only time you need to worry about a bruise here is if somebody is violent, and if that’s the case you let a staff member know immediately. We have a zero tolerance policy.”

Sheryl smiled. “I probably have the lamest bruise story ever. I fell out of my wheelchair reaching for my makeup.”

Diana grinned and waved it off. “I’ll admit that’s high on the unexpected factor, but everybody has stumbles, wheelchair or not.”

Sheryl laughed as Diana put her at ease. “Glad I’m not the only one.”

Diana chuckled. “So you read the information packet?”

Sheryl nodded. 

“Great! We start all contestant runners with a single floor, then adjust as necessary based on training and other schedules. Promotion structure is simple. When the contestant above you makes their run or is promoted, you move up the chain and a new contestant fills in your spot. Since you’ll be here a while you’ll probably end up in a supervisory role. Is that ok?”

Sheryl nodded.

“Fantastic.” Dianna passed over a wireless data chip. 

“What’s this?”

“Keycard software for the production tower. Install the app on your implants, and we’ll code you to your access level.”

Sheryl held the chip over the receiver in her left wrist until the data transfer was complete then handed it back. 

Dianna paused while she opened up a browser in her own implants. “Did it install correctly?”

“Yes.”

“Good. It should have assigned you a unique ID in a popup.”

“It did. Eleven dash nine dash ten dash eight dash one dash zero.”

“Eleven nine ten eight one zero?”

“Yes.”

Diana nodded. “I’ve got you in the keycard system. The app integrates with the other software for contestants, so you shouldn’t have to do anything except let it run in the background. It’ll restart with the rest of the program if needed.”

Sheryl nodded as the window disappeared from her field of vision. 

* * *

 

“Game night!” Vivienne declared, menu of options appearing in front of everybody as they sat around the table in the virtual cafe.

“Do we want the Vivienne and Janice against everybody else team, or smaller groups?” Becky asked. 

Janice smiled. “We’re not that bad.”

Vivienne laughed. “Yes we are.”

Becky immediately started voting against pure strategy games, until they were left with a series of card games. 

“You know there is still strategy to each of these, don’t you?” Janice asked. 

Becky pouted. “At least there’s an element of chance with these.”

Vivienne and Janice shared a glance before Vivienne shrugged.    

“Ok Becky,” Sheryl said. “You’re on my team.”

Chad leaned over Liam’s back and kissed his hair. “I guess that leaves us.”

“Isn’t there one more coming?” Janice asked. “Vivi mentioned your roommate on the island,” she said to Sheryl. 

“Oh, Monica,” Sheryl smiled. “She’s in physical therapy and will be here later.”

They picked an old board game that relied on cards to proceed, and soon the game started. 

They were well into the game, with Vivienne and Janice leading despite a number of bad draws, when Janice set down her cards with an annoyed huff. 

“Janice?” Sheryl asked. 

“Sher, give me access to your implants.”

“Huh?”

“This lag from you and Vivienne is driving me insane.”

“It’s probably all the contestant software they shoved in us,” Vivienne pointed out. “First person visual capture and the like. We’re constantly sending data back to the production servers.”

“Yes yes,” Janice grumbled. “But I bet they didn’t even bother to compress it.” She turned back to Sheryl. “Give me access?”

Sheryl sighed, knowing that Janice wouldn’t give up until she’d solved her chosen puzzle. “Ok. But no rewriting code. I don’t want legal breathing down my neck.”

Janice rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll write a patch to compress the data stream and unpack it on the other end.”

Sheryl nodded and opened her access port to Janice. “And no peeking at my cards.”

Janice laughed softly. “Do I need to? We all know Vivi and I are winning anyway.”

Sheryl sighed, and Becky pouted. 

“We either need to split them up, or handicap them,” Becky complained. 

Vivienne laughed. “Come on guys. It’s not that bad is it?”

Liam, Chad, Becky and Sheryl all shared a glance before nodding. 

“Done,” Janice said during the awkward silence.

“Done?” Sheryl asked.

Janice returned to her seat. “I made a copy of all the laggy shit to examine later. I’ll give both you and Vivi patches next game night.”

Sheryl nodded, then the door of the net cafe opened and a new avatar strolled in. After a moment Sheryl realized that the newcomer was Monica. 

Monica’s avatar started with the body scan, but had been modified to be more feminine. Her figure was slightly more hourglass, and her hair was longer. She practically floated into the room wearing a floral-print chiffon blouse over a pastel camisole, and an equally lightweight skirt. 

“Hi…” Monica said as she reached the table, holding her elbow and biting her lower lip. Sheryl noticed that her voice was higher as well. 

Vivienne stood, hugged Monica then brought up the menu to add a chair to the table. Sheryl proceeded to introduce Monica to everybody while the table reconfigured itself. 

“Monica! Your avatar is gorgeous.” Vivienne said as they sat. 

Monica blushed. “Thank you. What work I was able to get was all virtual. Since nobody asks questions online… It... helped to match my online persona to my ideal, especially on bad days. I do have the standard body scan avatar for when I need it, interviews and the like, but this is the one I mainly use.”

Sheryl smiled. “It fits you.”

Monica blushed deeper red and nodded. “I hope so. I’ve shown this avatar to the doctors, and, while we think it’ll take treatment past my run, this is the goal.”

Vivienne nodded. “I think it’s completely reasonable, accentuate what you already have and no major changes.”

Becky leaned across the table. “You have to tell me where you got those clothes. I love breezy styles like that.”

“I… umm…”

“Secret shop?” Becky teased. 

“No… nothing like that,” Monica said softly. “I… I designed them. Ever since I was little I loved designing dresses and pretty clothes. I could never get the fabrics I wanted in real life, but I learned how to make them for my virtual body.”

“Do you have a shop, or a sponsorship?”

Monica shook her head. “I didn’t think anybody else would be interested.”

Becky scowled. “As soon as you escape your tower you’re going to come visit me. I know some people who would beg to differ. You’ll get to play with all those pretty fabrics if I have my way.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I won’t push if you’re not interested,” Becky said. “But if you want to design, you have the skill. I see it. Besides, you know you’ll be famous after your run. You could easily turn that alone into a fashion career. I just know a few people to talk to is all.”

“You think I could really be a designer?”

Becky nodded. “Absolutely.”

Monica looked down at the table. “I… wow… I… are you sure it’s no trouble?”

Becky laughed. 

“Becky is a personal shopper,” Janice explained. “She’s known to have an eye for this kind of stuff. If she says you’ve got the talent, then she’s probably already thinking of three clients who would fall over each other to be the first to wear something original like that.”

“Four,” Becky corrected, “plus me.”

“Wow…” Monica breathed, eyes wide.

“Don’t feel pressured,” Sheryl said, patting Monica’s arm. “Becky is enthusiastic. But she does have connections that will make it easier if it’s something you want to do.”

Monica smiled. “I’ll think about it.”

Becky grinned. “Ok! Now settle in, you’re on the same team with Sheryl and I. We’re going to take down Janice and Vivienne this time for sure.”

“You’re on,” Janice challenged with a grin.

* * *

 

Sheryl eyed the parallel bars. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 

“You’re ready,” the therapist said. “You’re showing enough leg strength in other exercises. It’s time to start walking again.”

Sheryl reached absentmindedly to the large bruise still healing on the side of her face. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll be right here to keep you from falling. Our goal today is to get you standing between the bars, and one or two steps with assistance.”

Sheryl looked at the bars, and rolled her chair over. She took another deep breath and set her jaw. “I’m ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week I think is Siyabonga's run. 
> 
> Please subscribe for updates. Learn more about _The Tower_ on my website at [phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/](http://www.phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/)
> 
> I'm hanging out a lot on tumblr these days at [phoenixwaller.tumblr.com](http://phoenixwaller.tumblr.com). I'm also on plurk and twitter at @phoenixwaller, and my author page on facebook is @JenniferLWaller

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos, comments and shares are appreciated.  
> Comments especially fuel this work, so please let me know what you think. 
> 
> Please subscribe for updates. Learn more about _The Tower_ on my website at [phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/](http://www.phoenixwaller.com/the_tower/)
> 
> I'm hanging out a lot on tumblr these days at [phoenixwaller.tumblr.com](http://phoenixwaller.tumblr.com). I'm also on plurk and twitter at @phoenixwaller, and my author page on facebook is @JenniferLWaller
> 
> Find my YoI fanfics on my AO3 profile at <http://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixwaller/profile>


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